One Good Turn
by jibbsloversunited
Summary: McGee meets an interesting woman, Fornell hates his new boss and Gibbs is just about to learn why it is the quiet ones you have to watch out for. Jibbs AU.
1. Chapter 1

A/N - well, yes, it is another Jibbs AU. I had the idea ages ago - then it got shelved and after JD when I didn't feel like writing I forgot about it. Then, when someone (i.e. Ellie), reprised Jezebel it got me thinking and some of the original story fitted with another AU idea I had - and this is the result. I hope you enjoy it.

Morgan

**One Good Turn**

"Bloody woman!" Gibbs turned away from the hull of the boat for long enough to establish that Fornell was muttering into his drink and not talking to him. His arrival an hour or so ago had been unexpected; though the alcohol he'd brought had ensured that Gibbs wouldn't turn him away. A couple of glasses had certainly taken the sting out of having his Sunday afternoon interrupted.

They hadn't talked much; while Gibbs had carried on working on the boat, Fornell brooded. He'd said enough to establish that the woman in question was, for once, not Diane – but instead Fornell's new boss.

Gibbs knew better than to comment. He gathered that while Tobias had been moonlighting with Homeland Security there had been some sort of re-organisation and now, back at the FBI, he was working for someone else – and it wasn't exactly a picnic.

"Thinks she knows it all, just because she brought down some big time weapon dealer. The suits only promoted her because she looks good on ZNN."

Gibbs wasn't much of a fan of the politics that seemed to go with the job and was relieved not to have much to do with it. But he knew it wasn't out of the question that Tobias was right. Despite having women on his team over the years, not to mention his three divorces, he knew that at heart he was something of a chauvinist – and that Tobias was cut from the same cloth. He was only glad that it was Fornell with the female boss – not him.

"And now she's imagining things, seeing patterns." His snort of derision was cut off when he reached for the bottle, missing it the first time.

"How's Emily?" Gibbs asked; hoping the change of subject might help.

"Diane's going away for a couple of weeks – so Em's going to be staying with me. The evil Queen will probably have me working all hours so I can't spend any time with her."

Gibbs reached over and moved the bottle out of reach.

"How about one weekend we go horse-riding?" He offered, remembering a promise Emily had extracted from him some months ago. He ignored the painful reminders of another girl's childhood and decided that it wouldn't hurt for them both to sober up some. "Let's get some coffee."

***

She wasn't listening – really.

Jenny Shepard was concentrating on the papers she'd brought with her – because they needed to be finished before she went back to her office on Monday morning and pouring over paperwork wasn't how she wanted to spend her Sunday evening. Though with nothing better on offer she realised it was all too likely that was what she would end up doing.

But she could pretend that there was more to her life than this, pretend that she hadn't had to escape to the little coffee shop in order to have some human contact. Even if that contact consisted of the teenage waitress, the disapproving presence lurking by the door and a group of twenty-somethings whose conversation she was trying hard not to eavesdrop on.

She'd noticed them arrive; largely because one of them was driving a Porsche and the car deserved a second look and a little envy. She was surprised when the driver turned out to be less flashy than his car seemed to indicate. He looked sweet and a little geeky and she'd mentally catalogued him as some kind of IT whizz-kid; a successful one if the car was anything to go by.

When she'd heard one of the others refer to him as a 'Fed' she was so affronted by the thought that her judgement might be wrong, that she'd had her 'shadow' check out who the Porsche was actually registered to.

Maybe she was getting rusty. In the field the constant danger had been enough to keep her skills sharp. But these days she was stuck in meetings or over-seeing cases for days on end. It was a sobering thought – one she didn't need when she was already feeling her age.

When the news came back that that Porsche was indeed registered to a Federal Agent, one Timothy McGee who was part of a frontline investigative team at NCIS, she was decidedly grumpy.

But now that she knew he was in the business she watched him a little more carefully. Recognised that he had chosen a seat that gave him an excellent vantage point and that he used it to his advantage – his eyes sweeping over anyone arriving or leaving. The casual awareness of his surroundings and what was going on in them was familiar, someone had clearly trained him well.

She didn't know much about NCIS – though she thought some of her colleagues had collaborated on a couple of cases with their agents. In fact she remembered something about Fornell being the one with a contact there. She wrinkled her nose – she really didn't want to think about that particular thorn in her side right now.

She should have gone back to her paperwork – but instead her gaze drifted back to Agent McGee. The people he was with definitely weren't Feds and she didn't think they were close friends, at least not anymore. There was too much catching up for this to be a group in regular contact. And there was far too much posturing going on. College friends who had lost touch she decided, relieved when one of them mentioned MIT. Maybe she wasn't losing her touch after all.

She was a little amused to see the two women present flirting with one of the other men. They were clearly very impressed with his bad boy attitude – even if she thought it was contrived. One day they were going to realise that the sweet, intelligent guys were the ones to hold onto. But who was she to criticise them – it was a lesson she'd learnt far too late. Which explained why she was sitting in a café on a Sunday afternoon, with no one waiting at home for her.

Her curiosity satisfied she turned her attention back to her papers – reminding herself sternly that the change of scene had been supposed to help her to concentrate, to make her feel a little better about spending all of Sunday working. And then she heard the teasing.

He took it in good spirits, but as the only person in the immediate vicinity with any idea how dangerous his job was it was frankly as annoying as hell to have a group of people make fun of the career choice they shared.

But it was none of her business. If he didn't mind the subtle digs, the teasing and the outright comparisons of salaries, why should she?

She didn't get really annoyed until they started recounting tales of his disastrous dating history. Or at least until he made two or three valiant attempts to change the subject, which they ignored. Clearly they were used to his not being a great success with women – she suspected they had told these stories about him before.

Her lips twitched at the thought that once upon a time she would have waltzed over there, come up with a pretext to talk to them, got herself invited to join them and generally disrupted things. It was a manoeuvre she had executed dozens of times when undercover – rarely without success.

But she couldn't. She was the Assistant Director of the FBI, her role demanded a certain gravitas and she had to behave accordingly. Even if she was just a little fed up with having to be responsible and serious all the time.

But this wasn't an undercover operation and just for a moment she was unsure of her ability to pull it off without embarrassing herself. She was feeling her age more and more these days – boosts to her ego being few and far between.

She flicked a glance in their direction and found that Agent McGee was looking over at her. She had thought she was pretty much out of his line of sight, tucked away in a corner, but apparently not. Almost unwillingly her lips quirked up into a small smile, one that he returned, adding in a slight eye roll as he glanced back at his companions. He seemed nice.

She sent a sympathetic look his way, before becoming once again aware of the dark shadow watching her from the doorway. She absolutely couldn't do what she was thinking about doing under the eye of her security detail. She really didn't want anyone to hear about this.

A burst of laughter from across the room was the final straw. Decision made, she pulled her hair out of its clip, shaking it out over her shoulders and checked her makeup in the hand mirror from her purse. She gathered up her papers and getting to her feet she slipped towards the doorway, pressing them into Melvin's hands.

"This would be a good time for you to disappear," she told him firmly.

Since she was already by the door it was easy to make it look as though she had just arrived. As she strode purposefully over towards their table she hoped Agent McGee had the wit and the training to follow her lead.

For a moment she wondered just what she thought she was doing – she was far too old for this. But, she rationalised the fear by telling herself that in some way she was defending the honour of a sister agency. And, after all – she'd once been very good undercover.

"There you are!" The group at the table looked up at her entrance and McGee jumped to his feet; startled that a woman he'd made a brief moment of eye contact with was now acting as though she knew him.

"Darling, I'm so sorry I'm late." His eyes went wide for a moment and she could tell that he thought she was crazy. But she stared him down and her glare was effective enough to let her get close to him. "FBI," she said as she pressed a gentle kiss to his cheek. "Play along Agent McGee and we'll get away with this."

TBC


	2. Chapter 2

A/N - thanks for the reviews, I'm glad you're - amused by my scenario.

**Previously on One Good Turn...**

_"FBI," she said as she pressed a gentle kiss to his cheek. "Play along Agent McGee and we'll get away with this."_

Fortunately he was quick on the uptake.

"It's all right, you're here now." He told her, nodding his head very slightly to indicate that he was willing to do as she asked. She couldn't help but notice that the two women at the table were looking just a little irritated and that both the other men were watching her avidly.

"Aren't you going to introduce us Tim?" One of the women said, as he tentatively placed a hand around her waist. She heard him suck in a breath as she moved just a little closer.

"Of course, everyone – this is,"

"Jenny, Jenny Shepard" she interrupted before he could reveal he had no idea what she was called. "I've been looking forward to meeting you all, Tim's told me so much about you."

***

Timothy McGee was having a very strange day. First of all his hopes for this reunion with a group of friends from MIT had faded fast when he realised just how different he was from them, how different the lives they lived now were. Things had got worse when it became clear they were making the same jokes and telling the same stories as they had when they had been students together – and that he was still the butt of most of them.

If anything it made him realise how different it was when Tony teased him, or Gibbs snapped – because at the end of the day the team trusted him with their lives. He hadn't thought much about how he'd changed over the last few years – but now he could see it and though he wished the people he'd been close to when he was younger could as well, he could live without their understanding.

He'd told himself that he was going to leave at the earliest possible opportunity – that he had better things to do with his time than listen to a group of people who weren't interested in finding out who he was these days.

But then his day got a lot more bizarre.

Jenny Shepard, a complete stranger, was currently curled into his side and entertaining herself by charming Aaron and Stephen, while simultaneously making Louisa and Ashley jealous. It was a jaw-droppingly impressive performance. And, if he looked a little stunned then they probably thought it was because he still couldn't quite believe his good fortune that this woman – beautiful, sexy and sophisticated was interested in him.

He'd noticed her before she joined them, even though she had been hidden in a corner of the café. The others had been sitting with their backs to her and fortunately hadn't seen her – or perhaps that was all part of her plan.

Her red hair had made him think of Gibbs and his history with red heads. Generally he tried not to think too much about the boss' personal life, unlike some of his colleagues who found it fascinating. Right now even Tony was avoiding the subject, as the rumour was that Gibbs' relationship with Lt Col Mann had ended. But then she had been a blonde.

When Jenny, if that actually was her name, had looked up and smiled at him across the café he had felt himself blush. If Tony had been here McGee was sure he would have been over there, introducing himself and generally turning on the DiNozzo charm. But McGee knew he wasn't like Tony; he wasn't used to beautiful strangers smiling at him across a room. So he'd done nothing – reluctantly dragging his attention back to the conversation going on around him. The next time he looked up she'd been gone and he'd assumed she'd left – until it became clear that she hadn't.

When she walked towards him, calling him 'darling' he'd started to panic. She hadn't looked crazy, but how was he supposed to know? He'd been trying to work out how he was going to get out of this situation when she'd given him a look so eerily similar to one of Gibbs', that his defences had crumbled.

She had whispered a magic set of initials into his ear as she'd kissed him, making him blush even harder and somehow he'd found himself going along with her charade.

And, if he was any judge of these things, they were going to get away with it. She'd already handled a question about how they'd met with consummate ease – implying she worked at the Department of Justice without ever actually saying so. For just a moment he wished Tony could be here to see this – and then he remembered that if Tony ever found out that a complete stranger was pretending to be his lover, he'd never let him live it down.

This wasn't the kind of thing that happened to him. He wasn't Tony or Ziva; he didn't do undercover - unless you counted playing a waiter at some function, watching other people reel in the target. He'd imagined himself in exotic situations, pretending to be someone different, envious at the opportunities that came the way of his team-mates. But now he realised that being convincing while pretending was more difficult than it looked. Although apparently it wasn't a problem for Jenny.

Was she really FBI? The thought that she might not be lingered, despite the fact that she'd known who he was. He'd never seen a FBI Agent who looked like her – which didn't mean much. He supposed they couldn't all look like Fornell or Sachs. But if she wasn't FBI then this could be a scam, he could be in danger. But why would she pretend to be involved with him? She could just have waited until he left the café if she wished him harm.

So, assuming for the moment that she was who she said she was, did that mean he had stumbled into the middle of a FBI operation? He almost winced – imagining Gibbs yelling and the Director expressing his displeasure at the interference with another agency's operation. He doubted that the fact that it hadn't been deliberate would save his neck. But if this was an undercover operation the lack of other customers in the café meant that the target was likely to be one of the people sitting at the table with them.

Which was ridiculous. His old college friends were annoying – but they weren't criminals.

As if she'd read his thoughts Jenny leaned close enough to murmur in his ear, "Do you want to get out of here?"

"I think that would be a good idea – then you can tell me what's going on." She quirked an eyebrow at him, almost seeming to imply that she didn't mind pushing things a little further. But their quiet conversation drew everyone's attention, not that they hadn't been watching anyway.

"You too look as though you want to be alone." Stephen commented and McGee decided it was far too good an opening to let pass.

"Well actually…" He clasped her hand in his, "we er…"

"We have plans." She finished for him.

Her smirk prompted knowing glances among the others and what might have been a murmur of, "lucky bastard," from Aaron. McGee was far too busy getting them both out of there to respond, but he suspected it was a comment that the men in her life heard frequently.

***

When they stepped out of the café he made sure they were safely out of ear shot before letting go of her hand and stepping away from her. "What's going on?" He demanded. "Are you really with the FBI?" He tensed as she reached into her purse and then relaxed fractionally as she pulled out her identification.

Jenny handed over her badge, glad that it proclaimed only that she was an Agent; she didn't particularly want to admit to being an Assistant Director right now. "Are you investigating one of my friends?" He asked, handing her back the badge.

"This isn't an investigation – I was having a quiet coffee and I overheard your friends. I know it's none of my business, but your job and mine shouldn't be a subject for mockery."

"So you decided to play my, lover, because they were teasing me for being a Fed? Did you check that I really was a Federal Agent?" OK – so he was sharp, she should have expected that and by the way his expression darkened she could tell he had replayed the conversation in his head and come to an accurate conclusion about what had really prompted her to come to his aid.

"I'd seen your car earlier – got a friend to run the plates." She held her hand up as though to fend off whatever he was going to say next. "I know I shouldn't have interfered."

"But you did." His outrage was justified, of course. She'd hate it if someone came to her rescue like that. She hadn't intended to make him feel humiliated and suddenly she wished she'd left him alone.

"I'm sorry," she offered, "I just didn't like the way they were talking to you."

He certainly felt embarrassed, like a little boy who had needed one of the older kids to defend him from schoolyard bullies. Maybe he should have been suspicious about her motives, but no one had ever done anything remotely like that for him – and she was a complete stranger.

"I should have shut them up," he conceded, "but I don't care what they think of me." As he said it he realised just how true it was, knew that was why he hadn't told them about his books, or given them more than a few sketchy details about his job. It was the only reason his pride, while stinging, wasn't so hurt that he couldn't see the generosity of her action.

"Then what's so terrible with having a little fun at their expense? You do know how to have fun Agent McGee?" He nodded slowly, smiling as he thought about their expressions and the way she'd given the impression of intimacy without really doing or saying very much. Maybe if he asked she'd explain how she'd done it. "You played along very well, once you got past the initial shock."

"Having a beautiful woman pretend to be involved with me made playing along easy."

"Thank you." It had taken her a long time to learn to accept compliments and this one was so genuine, so sincerely given that she couldn't help but smile back at him. He was charming in a quiet and unassuming way – and there weren't that many charming people in her life.

"If it makes you feel better that was the most fun I've had in - well, a while." The joy and amusement in her expression was gone and at his questioning look she added soberly, "don't let this job swallow you up Agent McGee." He hadn't expected the hint of vulnerability in her eyes – or that she was strong enough to let him see it.

"So, do you know Agent Fornell?" He asked – wondering why she rolled her eyes.

"I've worked with Tobias a couple of times, I don't know anyone who knows him well."McGee was sure she was right – though if anyone knew Fornell he thought it was probably Gibbs.

"He once had a colleague of mine arrested." He offered, thinking about Tony temporarily behind bars.

"Interesting life you lead at NCIS," she commented and he couldn't help but think that she didn't know the half of it. "So, Agent McGee…"

"Tim," he said, holding out his hand.

"Jenny," she responded – taking his hand and shaking it, her touch warm and soft.

Normally he was, reserved around women – certainly not as confidant as DiNozzo and some of the other agents. His sister was different of course, as her big brother it was his job to look after her. Abby had simply side-stepped his shyness as though it wasn't there, making him confident around her just by her faith in him. Kate had become someone he trusted and cared about and he thought he might feel the same way about Ziva, though he was still just a little scared of her.

But he was curious about this woman and not just because she was beautiful. There was an aura of command about her, which reminded him a little of Gibbs. Though she was far more approachable than Gibbs – or maybe that was just because he didn't work for her.

He wanted to know more about her, he wanted to talk to her – to hear what it was like to be a FBI agent, to compare notes about their jobs. He didn't know anyone who was in the same line of work, but with a different agency. And he wanted to understand what she meant when she said that this job could swallow you up - because that had sounded a lot like the voice of experience.

"Would you like to have dinner?" He asked, already preparing himself to hear her polite demur; after all she surely had far more interesting things to do on a Sunday than have dinner with him.

"That would be lovely," she smiled at him as she looped her arm through his. "We are supposed to be having a torrid affair," she pointed out as they started to wander along the street together. He looked over at her, just a little worried at what she might be implying and at his expression her laughter rang out. "Don't look so scared Tim," she said, her voice laced with humour, "I don't bite."

"That's a shame," he responded, hoping to shock her with his daring response. But his DiNozzo impersonation only made her laugh again. Clearly she found him hilarious – and actually he didn't mind at all.

TBC


	3. Chapter 3

A/N - thanks for the reviews. I didn't set out to write a McGee/Jen fic and whatever some of you might be hoping for or imagining that really isn't what this is. But I did want to write a believeable connection and friendship between them. So -well, sorry if that is a bit disappointing.

**Part 3**

McGee had learnt some time ago that the only way to survive Monday mornings was not to respond to any of DiNozzo's tales about his weekend exploits. This strategy was somewhat complicated by Tony's need to share; an approach that tended to provoke Ziva to threats of violence. Normally it was a challenge to drown out their squabbling but this morning he had something pleasant of his own to think about while attempting to keep a low profile.

He'd had an exceptionally good afternoon and evening – with Jenny. They'd walked for a while and then found a small restaurant where they'd shared dinner and spent hours talking about – well, everything really.

She'd been surprisingly easy to talk to and he'd found himself sharing things that he wouldn't easily admit to anyone else. But she'd responded in kind with stories from early in her career that didn't exactly reflect creditably on her; he wasn't sure he'd ever confess to anyone that he had thrown up at his first autopsy.

He'd told her about his books and once she'd got over her surprise she'd been curious. Certainly she expressed more interest than his colleagues ever had, because she had offered an intelligent and well thought through solution to one of the plot holes he was currently grappling with. He wasn't used to having his role as a novelist taken seriously.

Conscious of how much he was telling her he had joked that she must be good at interrogating suspects. Her reply was more serious than perhaps the throwaway comment merited.

"Interrogation is about watching and listening – using who you are to elicit the information you need. You have to understand yourself to understand other people – be prepared to use how they react to you, even when the reaction is negative."

No one had ever talked to him like that about interrogation but when he thought about what she had said he realised that she was describing exactly what he had seen Gibbs do on countless occasions.

She was amazing.

And though she had told him some things about her life he knew that of the two of them she was by far the more reserved.

"Hey McNerd, you listening?" He looked up to find both Ziva and Tony looking at him. "Something you want to share?" Tony asked.

McGee shrugged, determined to give nothing away about something that was important to him. And Tony drew his own conclusion anyway. "Something tells me that McGoggle got lucky over the weekend – question is was it for real, or in cyber space?"

"I'm not interested in McGee's weekend DiNozzo, I'm not interested in your weekend." For once Gibbs' arrival was timely and McGee turned back to his paperwork – glad of the quiet and the opportunity it gave him to reflect.

He knew that he had more than a slight crush on her and only the knowledge that she was out of his league was keeping the crush from becoming something more. He was scarcely prepared to believe that they could become friends – except that she'd given him her cell phone number and suggested a regular coffee date.

He wanted to do something for her, wanted to find a way to make her smile what he already knew was a captivating smile.

***

Jenny Shepard rubbed her temples in a futile attempt to ward off a Fornell-induced headache. Her recalcitrant colleague certainly had a way of making his opinion felt. Laconic, critical – he'd sniped quietly from the sidelines during the briefing and then, in private, let her feel the full weight of his disapproval.

It was of some small satisfaction that she had more than held her own – keeping her cool in front of the others and then responding icily to every dig, every implied criticism. She knew she'd emerged from their encounter as the victor – his temper had unravelled far more easily than hers.

He'd slouched out of her office – issuing dire warnings and predictions of disaster as he went and slamming the door for good measure. No doubt he was carrying his anger and poisonous mood with him, infecting all who crossed his path.

She didn't know what more she could do to convince him, to persuade him to give her theory a hearing. But the truth was she didn't need his agreement, his approval or even his co-operation in order to precede.

She took a sip of her coffee – wincing at the cold, bitter liquid. It was a long way from a cosy restaurant. She smiled at the thought of the smart, sweet and oh so young man whose life she had unwittingly walked into the previous day. A chance encounter that she was surprisingly reluctant to let go of.

As if her thoughts had summoned him her cell phone buzzed – the number on display one she didn't recognise. But the slight stammer of greeting was already familiar and for the first time that day she smiled. "What can I do for you Agent McGee?"

"My agent arranged tickets for a party – I wondered if you'd like to accompany me – it's on Friday." She could hear the uncertainty in his voice, recognised that as the reason for his formality.

But she wasn't sure this was a good idea.

"You should ask Abby," she said gently – he'd talked about her yesterday, perhaps more than he realised and what he hadn't said had told her as much as what he had.

"I'm asking you," he replied firmly. There was something very determined – almost stubborn about him. "It's a costume party – you'll enjoy it."

How long since she had got dressed up and gone to a party – one that had nothing to do with work? How long since she'd gone out for the evening with a man simply because she enjoyed his company? She couldn't even remember.

"Who are you going as?"

"Sherlock Holmes," he admitted ruefully. She wasn't exactly surprised by his choice and almost unwillingly she conjured up an idea of a complimentary costume. "Jenny?" She was definitely tempted.

"OK – that would be lovely, thank you. But…"

"If something comes up with work you'll need to cancel, I know me too." As she put the phone down she smiled, until she realised that the event meant an additional security detail and that she'd have to talk to Fornell to arrange it. Her headache was back.

***

McGee had half expected something to come up to prevent them from going. He was used to having to rearrange his social life because of his job and he imagined that Jenny was as well.

They caught a case later that day and for the next few days he didn't have the time to think about what he might or might not be doing on Friday night. But by lunch-time on the day in question the dust had settled enough to allow him to be cautiously optimistic. When he called Jenny he could tell she was up to her neck in something of her own and that the best thing he could do was not distract her. But she'd sent him a message later that afternoon to say that she would have to meet him at the hotel; leaving him no opportunity to ask her about her costume.

Now he stood in the hotel lobby, watching the other guests arrive, half wondering if she was going to stand him up. "Good evening Mr Holmes." A soft voice spoke from the shadows and when she stepped towards him he couldn't help but smile.

The dress swirled around her ankles, her hair was pulled back in an elegant twist with a few tendrils trailing over her bare neck and shoulders. He had no idea how she had found the time to locate such a good replica of an 1880s evening dress. Any Holmes aficionado would know at once who she was supposed to be.

"I thought you might prefer _'the woman'_ to Dr Watson," she commented lightly. "And the costume was also better," she glanced over her shoulder towards the function room. "Shall we?"

Jenny was enjoying herself – despite it being the end of a long, hard week. Tim was good company – even in his Thom E Gemcity persona. He'd greeted a couple of people, including his agent, introducing her simply as Jenny and making no attempt to explain their relationship. Other than that he hadn't seemed particularly interested in chatting to them and they hadn't been obligated to spend the evening in their company.

She felt free, there was no one here she recognised, or who recognised her – well, apart from two members of her security detail who were masquerading as waiters.

She hoped Tim wasn't aware of their presence but actually, she knew that was too much to expect . "Secret service?" He whispered in her ear – nodding in the direction of one of them.

"You're right," she responded. For a moment she considered telling him that they were here because of her, because she was the Assistant Director of the FBI and her life was constrained by security. But she didn't want to talk about it, knew it could ruin their developing friendship and she didn't want that. So she shrugged and made a show of looking around her. "There must be some sort of VIP here – want to try and work out who it is and what costume they're wearing?"

***

He felt different and it wasn't just because people looked at him differently with a beautiful woman on his arm. It wasn't something he could easily explain; except that being here with Jenny made him feel different – more intelligent and confident than usual. It was as though he was seeing himself through her eyes.

They spent the evening wandering from group to group, conversing lightly – amusing themselves by speculating about whether the costumes the other guests wore reflected their personalities or professions. But at the back of his mind he was thinking about what he could do for her to repay this gift.

He knew she was tired, though she didn't say so and thinking about the week he'd had, he realised that he was tired as well. "Want to call it a night?" He said quietly, "I have to finish off reports tomorrow."

"Actually that would be good, I'm on a surveillance operation in the morning."

"Anything interesting?" he asked. Something flashed in her eyes but he didn't know her well enough to try to interpret it.

"White collar," she said with a shrug. "How about one more drink?" He nodded and followed her to the bar.

She didn't talk about her work. He'd mentioned the team, told her stories about all of them. But though she had talked about her experiences as a younger agent and offered advice based on that experience, she had said nothing about the people she worked with and what she was doing now.

She wasn't being evasive, but he sensed that he shouldn't ask her directly about it. He knew he could easily find out all about her, even without hacking into the FBI database, which he was trying to give up doing. But he liked and respected her too much to breach her privacy and he wanted the chance to get to know her without using computers as a prop.

He thought again about what she had said the first time they'd met – and knew she feared that it was too late for her; that the job had swallowed her up leaving her with nothing. He wanted to tell her that it wasn't true – but wasn't sure that she would believe him.

She turned, handing him a drink and his gaze slipped towards her glass. They'd both been drinking wine earlier, but clearly she'd changed to something else. "It's bourbon," she said – apparently reading his thoughts. "An acquired taste."

And suddenly he knew. The pieces falling into place. He wanted to help her as much as she was helping him – and an invitation to a party just wasn't going to cut it. She was in law enforcement, she was tough and confident, she had red hair and drank bourbon.

He was going to have to find a way to introduce her to Gibbs.

TBC

A/N 2 so - who knows which character Jen is 'dressed' as?


	4. Chapter 4

A/N – thanks for the reviews. I don't know about you, but I think it's time Jenny met Gibbs...

**Part 4  
**

_She was in law enforcement, she was tough and confident, she had red hair and drank bourbon. He was going to have to find a way to introduce her to Gibbs._

But that was easier thought about than accomplished. McGee knew he could hardly tell his boss that he wanted to set him up with his new friend, not unless he had a death wish. He considered enlisting Abby – but then dismissed the idea. This was his project, if it all went wrong he'd be the one to take the blame and if Gibbs even caught a hint of a plot, there would be a lot of blame around.

He was mulling over several options – none of them promising as he sat in thebull-pen, waiting for a search he was running on his computer to conclude. He looked up as the elevator opened and Agent Fornell appeared. In his experience visits from the FBI were never a good thing.

"Agent McGee," Fornell came to a stop right in front of his desk. "Something you want to tell me?"

"Er – Gibbs is in autopsy?" He offered – not at all sure what Fornell wanted.

"Something else." McGee knew he couldn't tell him about the case, unless Fornell knew something they didn't.

"Er – about the case?"

"Nope." Fornell watched him flounder – with no intention of helping him out. The knowledge that Assistant Director Shepard had been at a party with Gibbs' probie agent had made his day. He hadn't needed to be there in person last night to oversee her security detail, but his curiosity had got the better of him – and been admirably rewarded.

He'd come over to find out more – and perhaps to see if Gibbs knew what his team was up to when they weren't working for him. But McGee wasn't giving anything away and, in fact, didn't seem to know what he was hinting at.

"Looking for me Fornell?" Gibbs rounded the corner, coffee cup in hand, the rest of the team following him. He toyed with the idea of saying more, making a point of looking from Gibbs to McGee and raising his eyebrows.

"Just passing through. See you around Gibbs." He said, turning to the elevator. After all if Shepard had got herself a toyboy then the information could be very useful; he could wait to use it.

"McGee?" As Fornell left Gibbs turned to the only person who'd actually spoken to him. "What'd he want?"

"Don't know boss, he asked if we had something to tell him."

"And do we?" Gibbs looked around – taking in Ziva and DiNozzo with his question. They all looked clueless.

Gibbs sighed, an enigmatic Fornell was a dangerous Fornell – and his mood had been unpredictable lately. If it was the case he'd have said so; which meant it was something else.

***

"You need to stop thinking." It was something he had been told before, but it was a comment that frustrated him, because it was difficult to stop doing something that came naturally.

McGee looked over to Jenny and she smiled over her coffee cup. "You've been told that before I take it?"

It was very early in the morning and they were at a local gun club to use their shooting range. When he'd mentioned that he was worried about his proficiency she had offered her assistance – suggesting the location and the time.

He'd realised at once that she was a good shot – better than good in fact; everything about the way she moved suggested that she was a natural. It was the way Gibbs looked with a gun in his hand, a look Tony tried to emulate and Ziva, well – McGee often thought that for Ziva guns were a poor substitute for killing someone with her bare hands, or with office stationery. It was another reason for trying to get Jenny and Gibbs to meet – but a suitable pretext had eluded him so far.

"OK," she took another sip of her coffee, "how about this, you need to try to focus your thoughts. You're right, it's a weapon, what it can do demands thought. But to use it properly you need to find a focus, filter out the extraneous data, the background noise."

"That doesn't sound any easier than thinking less,"

"It's not," she slipped off the bench where she was perched and crossed over to him. "You can shoot Tim, but you want to be really, really good at it – the question is, why? To impress others? Because you think it's the way to gain respect? You have an idea about what it takes to be good at your job – and it's all about what you are lacking. I don't think you realise that the other skills you have are just as important."

As he watched her empty some rounds into a target he tried to process what she'd said, but he knew he'd need a little time.

"Hey Jenny," an older man came over as they were packing away.

"Stan," she greeted him levelly.

"You thought any more about my offer?"

"Haven't had much of a chance really, you know how it is."

"Well, offers on the table."

"I know."

McGee waited until they were heading out to his car before asking, "what was that about?"

"He's a dealer – military guns. I have one that I've been thinking about selling. Stan made me an offer, but I'm not sure. The gun belonged to my father – I don't know that I want him to have it and just sell it on to someone else."

And there it was – the opportunity he'd been waiting for. "I know someone who knows about guns – I could ask him?"

"You don't have to Tim,"

"You didn't have to get up this early so we could go to the shooting range. Let me help you Jenny." It was very difficult to say no to him when he looked at her like that – and she had already decided that she wanted to get rid of the gun.

"All right, thank you." As they reached his car she flashed him a small smile, "though if you want to thank me for getting up so early you could let me drive the Porshe." He threw her the keys and she caught them – her smile broader now. "So, who is it this gun expert that you know?"

"My boss, Gibbs."

***

Gibbs wasn't sure how he had been talked into this. He didn't help members of his team, or their friends – well, not unless they were in real trouble. But McGee had asked and that was enough of a surprise that he had found himself agreeing. So now here he was, sitting in his car outside a modern apartment block - about to take a look at a gun for a friend of McGee's.

Sighing and hoping it wasn't going to take the whole evening he got out of his car and headed for the front door. He squinted at the paper McGee had given him with the apartment number written on and pressed the buzzer.

"Hello?"

"Looking for, er Jenny Shepard?"

"You've found her."

"McGee – I mean Tim, gave me your address."

"Oh," there was a moment of silence before she said, "come on up" and the door buzzed so he could push it open.

The apartment block was modern - light flooded the lobby and staircases and the décor was sleek and minimalist. He wrinkled his nose – it wasn't really his taste. McGee hadn't said much, just that the friend in question was a FBI Agent who had a gun she was thinking of getting rid of it and wanted some advice.

He hadn't known McGee was friends with a Fed – but he figured that it was some other computer expert. Knowing McGee it was entirely possible that he'd never actually met the woman; just corresponded with her in cyberspace.

"You must be Agent Gibbs?" She was standing in the doorway to her apartment and he couldn't help but stare. He'd been expecting someone entirely different – someone closer to McGee's age. It hadn't even occurred to him that she'd be older and beautiful. But now he really wanted to know how she knew McGee because she didn't look like a woman who spent her days pouring over some computer.

He nodded in response to her question, still a little loss for words.

"This is really good of you," she said, leading the way into the apartment.

"Haven't done anything yet." He pointed out following her across the living area.

The revolver made him suck in a breath. He didn't know enough to value it – but he could tell it was old. He touched it with care, feeling its weight and recognising that it had been looked after.

"It belonged to my father," she said when he looked up at her. "He passed away some time ago." Her tone made it clear she wasn't going to go into more detail than that – it wasn't anyone's business but hers.

She watched him as he turned the gun over looking at the makers mark – her attention drawn to the strong, callused hands. Tim had talked about Gibbs, she knew that her friend judged himself by this man's standards and often found himself lacking. But she also knew that he had seen something special in Tim, nurtured his skills – toughened him up, taught him to be the agent he was.

"Would you like some coffee?" His cell phone rang before he could answer, but he nodded.

She watched him from the kitchen as she waited for the coffee – he wasn't talking much, someone seemed to be giving him an update. Whatever he heard obviously displeased him and she hoped it wasn't McGee on the other end of the line. But it was good to know that she wasn't the only one with annoying subordinates.

Gibbs tuned DiNozzo out when he realised he could see her through the gap in the kitchen door as she made coffee. Her back was to him and just for a moment he allowed himself to check her out – his eyes skimming over curves and long legs not quite disguised by the shirt and pants she wore.

She bit her lip and took as much time as she could to pour the coffee – she could feel his eyes on her and flicking her gaze in his direction told her where he was looking.

"Find it." He said into the phone, snapping it shut as she emerged with two cups of coffee. She almost faltered as he looked at her, why hadn't she noticed how blue his eyes were?

"I know someone who should be able to help you find a buyer," he said as he drank some coffee. "I'll give him a call – we're in the middle of a case so it will take a couple of days."

She scribbled a number onto a piece of paper and handed it to him. "Call me when you know, I'm not in a hurry." He finished his coffee and put it down on a nearby table.

"I should get going."

"I appreciate your help Agent Gibbs," she said, pausing just before she opened the front door to let him out.

"Jethro," he said, a slight smile tugging at his lips.

"Jenny," she responded, unable to stop herself from smiling back at him.

"I'll be in touch – Jenny." As she closed the door behind him Jenny Shepard took a deep breath to control the fluttering of her stomach. It had been a long time since she'd felt that tingle of something that could be attraction.

"Timothy McGee, what are you up to," she whispered.

Gibbs was smiling as he walked out to his car – out of instinct he turned back, just for a moment, and looked up. He wasn't surprised to find her watching him and his smile grew a little wider.

TBC


	5. Chapter 5

A/N - Thanks for the reviews. OK - time for some Jibbs!

**Part 5**

Whatever he'd intended – it didn't turn out to be that simple. Scott was away on business when he tried to contact him and the case they picked up kept him more than busy.

But she lingered at the corners of his mind; this woman who McGee, of all people, had thrown into his path. And, without really being aware of what he was doing, he found himself watching McGee, noticing a change in him and wondering how he'd missed it before now.

It was subtle – but there was a confidence that hadn't been there before; as though a piece of the jigsaw had fallen into place.

So, when he found himself in the company of Jenny Shepard once more he couldn't help but ask himself if she was the reason for the change in his youngest agent; knowing that he wouldn't ever actually go so far as to mention it to her.

He'd collected her at her apartment at her suggestion and as he drove to Scott's place he noticed the reserve, the tension in her - something to do with the gun he speculated.

"You OK?" He asked at one point.

"It's been a long couple of days – you know how people can get on each others nerves during surveillance?" He smiled, knowing only too well what she was talking about and yet sure that wasn't the only thing bothering her.

When he set eyes on Jenny, Scott took about 2 seconds to go from doing a favour for a buddy to being solicitous and helpful. Gibbs had forgotten how charming his former colleague could be and suppressed his irritation when that charm drew a smile from her.

At the sight of the gun he did, however become instantly business-like. "Nice, you had it long?"

"It was my fathers and I think my grandfathers before that."

"It's military issue, circa 1918 – very nice piece." Gibbs watched Jenny as Scott talked about the gun, noticing her reluctance to touch it.

"Can you sell it Scott?"

"Gunny – you know me, I can sell anything." He grinned – before realising that neither of them seemed interested in joking. "I know a collector, he'd probably be interested; give you a good price for it as well. He's serious about his guns."

Jenny stretched out her hand and touched a fingertip to the revolver – well aware that Gibbs was watching her. She hadn't expected to feel like this. But she had wanted to know who was buying the gun – hadn't wanted to just sell it to someone who would just sell it on straight away.

"Can I leave it with you to show it him?"

"Sure, leave me your number so I can get in touch, let you know what he says, maybe take you out for a drink some time?"

"Scott," Gibbs issued a warning but Jenny seemed amused again and signed the receipt, leaving him the numbers where he could reach her. At least she hadn't said anything about his invitation to have a drink.

"Red head huh," Scott murmured to Gibbs as they were walking out to the car.

"Friend of a friend," Gibbs replied.

"So, its OK for me to ask her out?"

"Not if you want to live."

***

It was quiet in the car as they drove back. Gibbs considered letting the silence lie between them, but he was curious and thought she might want to talk – if the right person was asking the questions. "You going to tell me about the gun?"

"I told you – it belonged to my father."

"That's not it."

"You interrogating me Agent Gibbs?" He flicked his eyes away from the road for long enough to see her face – she was looking straight ahead of her, the passing street lights illuminating the planes and angles of her face. But he waited her out and wasn't surprised when she said,

"My father committed suicide over ten years ago – using that gun."

Jenny kept her eyes on the road – this wasn't something she talked about and she wasn't sure why she was telling him. Except that he'd asked and there was something about the man that made it difficult to just dismiss the question. She was beginning to understand why Tim took his opinions so seriously.

"How about a drink?" he said as they passed an area with a few bars. She considered – they were pretty close to her apartment but even with the difficult subject she really didn't want to go home yet.

"Your father killed himself with that gun – and you kept it." They were settled in an out of the way corner of the bar, both nursing glasses of bourbon and he was still getting over his surprise at the drink she had ordered.

"He was being investigated by the army – for taking a bribe from an arms dealer. He was working on the disposal of weapons in the former Soviet Union at the time and apparently he took money to look the other way and some weapons disappeared." He could hear the pain in her voice – feel it in the way she held herself. What had it meant to someone who had chosen to follow a family example and serve her country, to learn of such a betrayal?

"That why he killed himself?"

"From what I can tell," she turned the glass around on the table top. "I kept the gun for as long as I needed to – but now it's time to move on." He knew the look in her eyes, he'd worn that look more times than he was willing to think about.

"The arms dealer?" he asked.

"Was picked up six months ago by a joint FBI Homeland Security operation. He made a deal in exchange for his client list." She looked up and met his gaze, "so – I don't need to keep the gun, but letting it go is complicated."

"That why McGee wanted to help?"

She smiled, half serious and half playful, "I'm surprised it took you this long to ask me about him."

"He said you were friends."

"There a question in there somewhere Jethro?"

"McGee doesn't normally hang out with Feds."

"As far as you know." It was a good point – he knew a great deal about who McGee was, but not how he spent his time – or who with. "I bumped into him at a coffee shop some time ago – we got talking." It was true, more or less and she really had no intention of explaining how she'd actually bumped into McGee. "I like him."

"He's a good kid."

"You probably have no intention of telling him that – right?"

"Nope." They laughed quietly together and Gibbs felt himself relaxing in her company as he hadn't in months. He watched her as she let her gaze travel around the bar, noting the long elegant neck, the wide generous mouth. She looked back at him and he skittered his gaze away – wary of being drawn in by her but wanting to be all the same.

They finished their drinks and gathered their belongings. "I think I'll walk home," she said as they stepped outside. "It's not that far."

"How about some company?" He offered, falling into step beside her.

"I've been in the Bureau for almost 20 years Agent Gibbs – I'm pretty sure I can walk home by myself." He didn't answer – but he didn't stop walking either. "You know the macho crap really isn't attractive." She pointed out, even though it wasn't true. She was entirely too aware of him, physically and mentally, to deny that she was attracted to him.

She felt his hand on the small of her back and struggled not to melt into the weight of his touch. But warmth spread from the place his hand rested and when she glanced up at him their eyes met.

It might have been her imagination, but it seemed their footsteps slowed as the apartment building came into sight. She paused at the front door – thinking about inviting him in for coffee, but knowing it wasn't a good idea. Apart from anything else she had an early morning meeting with that perpetual pain in her side Agent Fornell.

"Thank you for your help Jethro," she hesitated for a moment but then lifted herself up onto her toes and pressed a soft kiss to his cheek.

He smelt warm and masculine and she lingered just a little longer than she had intended to. As she backed away he touched her cheek and then gently lowered his mouth to hers.

His lips were warm, his fingers cupped her cheek and his other arm was wrapped around her back. As first kisses went it had just the right amount of passion and just the right amount of restraint. They eased back naturally and as she opened her eyes he slid his hand into her hair, letting the heavy strands wind around his fingers.

"Think we can do this again sometime?" He asked.

TBC


	6. Chapter 6

A/N - thanks for the reviews.

**Part 6**

Jenny Shepard stepped away from the group of men as her cell phone rang, "Shepard," she answered, hoping her tone didn't betray her relief at having that particular conversation interrupted.

"Hey, bad time?" She almost smiled, but then caught Fornell's carefully schooled features and knew despite his expression he was watching her every move and probably reading her lips as well.

"You could say that," was her response. She took a step further away and turned her body away from her companions. "You back?"

"Couple of hours ago." In the week since their visit to Scott, her opportunity to spend time with Jethro had been severely constrained by both of their schedules. Two attempts at 'dates' had been interrupted. The first time, she'd been called out from a quiet dinner in a restaurant near her apartment. Later in the week an evening at his house which had included her first lesson in sanding the hull of a boat, really little more than an excuse to stand close and touch each other, had been brought to an abrupt halt by the start of an investigation that had taken his team out of DC.

That was three days ago and despite a busy week she'd had enough time to contemplate how both of the men from NCIS had brought change into her life in a relatively short , at the same time she was very aware that neither of them, as far as she knew, had any idea of the nature of her actual role at the FBI. She was trying to console herself with the knowledge that she hadn't sought to deceive them – but she wasn't sure the distinction would matter much in the long run.

"I'm going to be finished here in an hour of so," Jethro carried on, "you want to try dinner again?"

"I'm not sure I'll be done any time soon,"

"Take out then? Later?" It was flattering that he was so keen and, truthfully she could think of a lot worse ways of ending the day. But before she could answer she sensed someone moving closer to her and a quick glance over her shoulder told her that she needed to get back to the meeting.

"I'll call you later," she snapped the phone shut and pivoted towards Fornell, eyebrow raised. "Problem?"

"No," he drawled, his smirk unmistakable.

"How's your daughter?" she asked, "I think our meeting is going to run late – I'd hate it if you didn't manage to get home in time to see her."

The implied threat was a low blow. In reality she'd never keep him in a meeting simply out of spite, especially if it interfered with his time with his child – but he didn't need to know that.

***

"Tobias," Gibbs looked up at the sound of a familiar tread on his stairs. He wiped his hands on a cloth and tried not to notice that his guest was wearing a distinctly stormy impression. "Whatever it is, it wasn't me. I've been out of town." He glanced at his watch; he'd only been home for an hour or so, barely time to get any work on the boat done. Jenny wasn't due yet as far as he knew.

"Heard someone from NCIS was sniffing around the Jefferson case?" Fornell said – taking his overcoat off and producing a bottle from one of the pockets.

"Grayson I think, he's a good man. It wouldn't kill you to share some information."

"I'll send over what we have. You got any glasses down here?" Gibbs reached for two glasses; they'd been left from when he'd been down here with Jenny and he wouldn't swear they were clean; but he was fairly sure both he and Fornell had drunk out of worse.

"Where's Emily?"

"Sleep over with some school friends. I just dropped her, nearly didn't make it because the evil Queen insisted on arguing about everything. She's impossible to work with, damned relentless." Gibbs considered pointing out that they were both frequently described in similar terms – but then thought better of it and poured the drinks instead.

"You sure you aren't interested in her?" He asked – wondering if he'd been spending too much time with DiNozzo. On cue Tobias choked on his drink. "She gets to you."

"I'd sooner poke myself in the eye with one of her stilettos." Was the firm response, "I learnt my lesson about women." Gibbs shrugged, not certain he entirely believed him. "But maybe you haven't." Fornell held his glass up, not actually needing to point out the smear of lipstick on its rim. "Something you want to tell me Jethro?"

"Nope."

"Well, at least one of us is getting some." Gibbs didn't bother to correct the assumption. He and Jen weren't lovers; to date they'd shared several passionate kisses but nothing more. "No wonder you're in a good mood."

The ringing of a cell phone prevented further discussion. "Fornell, yes ma'am." Gibbs finished his drink and went back to sanding the boat – trying not to listen to the one-sided conversation, noting the tension that radiated from the FBI Agent and wondering if his replies sounded as terse over the cell as they did in person. "I'll be there as soon as I can." He snapped his phone shut, "apparently we're co-operating with NCIS over the Jefferson case." Another cell phone rang before Gibbs could reply; his this time.

"Hey," Jenny sounded more relaxed than she had done earlier – which boded well for his evening. "I'm leaving now – I'll be 45 minutes, a hour at the most."

"You eaten?" Fornell rolled his eyes at the conversation and Gibbs ignored him.

"No – are you ordering now?"

"I can do."

"I'll eat anything - I'm starving."

"OK. See you when you get here." Out of the corner of his eye he saw Tobias reach for his coat and pull it on. "You leaving?" He asked as he ended the call.

"Yeah – madam is busy this evening so I have to go play nice with your colleagues – and you apparently have a better offer."

***

Jenny smiled at the sight of Jethro leaning in his doorway as she got out of her car – as though he'd known exactly when she was due to arrive. It had taken her longer to get here because she'd had to let her detail take her home first. She'd told them that she would be staying in for the rest of the evening and then waited until they left before going out again. The whole performance making her feel more like an errant teenager than the Assistant Director of the FBI.

It was an impression that was reinforced by the way she and Jethro were looking at each other – slightly shy, not quite sure how intimate a greeting was appropriate. His gentle kiss to her cheek was probably just about right – but she came very close to drawing him into a longer, deeper kiss.

He thought she looked tired, but after three divorces knew better than to say so. Instead he asked, "how's the surveillance?" as he took her coat and draped it over the banister.

"Stalled," she looked frustrated for a moment and then made a visible effort to push the emotion away. "The team is antsy – they don't like spending their time on what looks like a dead end."

"You under pressure to pull it?"

"You could say that," she shrugged, not wanting to dwell on the pressure and where it originated. "How was your trip."

Her cell phone rang before she could answer and she pulled a face – before turning away to answer. She wasn't going to apologise because her job was demanding, although she was allowed to hope that this didn't mean a call out.

But when she saw the name on caller id she knew it wasn't going to be that type of conversation and she flicked a mischievous glance in her companion's direction as she answered. "Hi Tim,"

"Jenny, how are you?" She watched Jethro as she responded, reading curiosity and possibly a flash of jealousy in his expression. He met her eyes and she raised an eyebrow at him, almost daring him to say something. The sound of a knock at the door interrupted the silent duel, drawing him away and allowing her to turn her attention back to the call. "I was er, wondering if you were free for coffee on Sunday?" There was still that endearing uncertainty in Tim's tone, when he really had nothing to be uncertain about.

"That would be lovely." As they made arrangements to meet in the coffee shop where they'd had their first dramatic encounter she heard footsteps.

"Food's here,"

"Is that Gibbs?" Tim asked. She could hear the smile in his voice and she found it hard not to reciprocate.

"Er yes - we're about to have dinner."

"You going to tell me about it on Sunday?"

"Not a chance," she heard him laugh before he bade her a jaunty goodbye.

***

They conversed quietly over dinner and Gibbs restrained himself from asking her about McGee. When she stood to clear away the take out cartons he protested that it wasn't necessary and caught her hand, drawing her back to him and kissing her the way he'd wanted to when she'd arrived. They stood in the kitchen; falling deeper and deeper into the kiss – everything about it passionate and tender but unhurried.

His hands stroked over her face and tangled in her hair, while she rubbed his shoulders – easing tension he hadn't even been aware of.

"Hey," he pulled back – taking in her flush and the way his hands had mussed her hair. "How about we take this upstairs?"

She looked up at him, biting a swollen lip in a way that made his body tighten and he couldn't quite help himself, rubbing his thumb over her mouth. She took a breath, wanting this – her body craving his touch. "It's been a while for me," she admitted – hating how pathetic that made her sound.

He was surprised how protective of her that admission made him feel. He knew himself well enough to understand that it wasn't vulnerability that drew such feelings to the surface – but her strength in admitting a weakness that was, of course, nothing of the kind.

"It's up to you," he said, letting is fingertips trail along her throat, watching the way her eyes flashed at the contact – he had no doubt that the desire was there or that he could rouse it in her.

"Upstairs?" she replied quietly, gasping as he kissed the path his hand had taken earlier. "Upstairs," she repeated with far more conviction.

He drew her into the bedroom – wishing that he'd thought to change the sheets or tidy away some of the clutter, or anything really. Maybe it would at least show her that he hadn't assumed this was how their evening would end. But actually she didn't seem interested in looking around – kissing him hungrily as they stood feet away from the bed. He let her lead – hoping that it would quench the nervousness he could feel from her, letting his body press close enough to hers that she had to know what she did to him. He wanted his arousal to persuade her just how badly he wanted to be buried in her – because he didn't think he could find the words to tell her – and certainly not with the same eloquence.

She hadn't expected him to be so careful with her and she hadn't expected that she would like it so much. But they undressed each other slowly, stopping to explore newly exposed flesh; falling back onto the bed so they could get closer. They used hands and mouths, pressing their naked bodies together and retreating, over and over, all the while breathing and kissing, kissing and breathing in an endless, swirling cycle that tangled them up together until there was nothing between them, no reason not to take that last step.

Her heart thundered in her ears as he reached across to the bedside table and fumbled in the drawer for a packet of condoms. Whatever she might have said about him being prepared died as she realised that his hands were shaking. She dug her nails into his back and pressed her face into his chest – letting her teeth graze his nipple, shifting with him so as her body arched he could slide into her.

She smiled against him, wondering why she had been worried about this when it felt amazing. He drew his hips back slowly, almost retreating and then surging back into her as she gasped and tightened around him.

"So good," she breathed, pulling his lips down to hers; the rhythm he was setting somewhere between just right and not enough. Her hand slid down his spine and splayed out just about his buttocks, feeling the muscles clench with his movements. "Harder," she groaned – her inhibitions shed now and needing more from him.

He knew he was close, could feel the release hovering just out of reach. "Tell me," he said – hissing out the words as he moved – faster, harder in response to her body's demands.

"So close – just," she didn't need to complete whatever she was going to say; he shifted fractionally and she came for him, the orgasm flashing through her as he let himself go until he shuddered with his own release.

A few hours later Gibbs pushed himself up in bed and pressed a kiss to Jenny's bare shoulder as she sat on the bed to pull on her bra. It was ridiculously early – not even dawn, but there was nothing he could do about the fact that she needed to leave. He knew only too well what it meant to have an operation to oversee.

They'd slept for a few hours before she'd woken him with hungry kisses and they'd made love again – urgently this time, their desire and lust getting the better of them.

When she was dressed he pulled on a t-shirt and shorts, so he could walk her to the door and kiss her goodbye. As he watched her drive away he knew he wouldn't go back to sleep now – so it made sense to work on the boat and go into work early.

***

McGee stepped off the elevator, not at all surprised to see that Ziva and Tony were in the bullpen before him. He'd called ahead to say he was helping Abby with an experiment first thing and to check that was OK. "Where's the boss?"

"Getting coffee," Ziva said without looking up.

McGee had settled himself at his desk and turned on his computer when he became aware of a shadow. He looked up to find Gibbs standing over him, holding two cups of coffee. "Boss," he said nervously – not quite sure whether he was going to get a head slap – he had after all deliberately introduced Jenny and Gibbs; if things had gone disastrously wrong he'd be in the firing line.

Gibbs didn't speak, but he did hold out a cup of coffee to McGee who accepted it, surprised but grateful for the gesture. He ignored Tony's squawk of outrage about what the probie had done to deserve coffee and just for a moment he was pretty sure that Gibbs was smiling at him with his eyes. The moment, if that was what it was, passed almost at once – but it was enough.

TBC


	7. Chapter 7

A/N - thanks for the reviews, this part proved surprisingly difficult to write. Be nice to Ellie who dragged me through. And - sorry, not much McGee in this part - but I promise he'll be a big part of the next chapter.

**Part 7**

Afterwards Gibbs thought he should have known that things were going far too well; he had a spring in his step, was feeling younger than he had in years and was fighting down an impulse to smile that would have ruined his reputation if he'd given into it. Only Ducky had called him on his good mood – asking him carefully if there was something he wanted to share and shaking his head in quiet disbelief when he'd replied in the negative. As he'd left autopsy Gibbs had found himself imagining introducing Jenny to Ducky at some point in the future.

His cell phone rang before he reached the elevator – interrupting the thought process. "Gibbs." He couldn't quite believe what he was hearing and yet, at the same time he wasn't completely surprised. Like everyone else he had assumed that Fornell was indestructible – apparently they'd all been wrong about that.

"DiNozzo, you're in charge!" he barked as he strode into the bull pen.

"I am? I mean, yes boss!" Tony looked around him, panic setting in as he realised that Gibbs was reaching for his car keys. "Er – where will you be?"

"Hospital," he replied over his shoulder – already back in the elevator.

***

Gibbs stormed in the direction he'd been sent in; he hated hospitals and he was already irritated that he hadn't been able to find anyone prepared to tell him what was happening with Fornell – or where Emily was. The phone call he'd received hadn't told him anything at all other than which hospital Tobias had been taken to. As stormed through the doors of the cardiac care unit he got the answer to one of those questions.

"Jen?"

Jenny Shepard was trying very hard not to beat herself up. It wasn't her fault that Fornell had collapsed – she hadn't asked him to come in on his day off, daughter in tow, to berate her; he'd taken that decision all on his own.

He'd been spoiling for a fight – maybe she shouldn't have pushed back so hard; but her frustration at the lack of support she was getting from within the bureau had got the better of her. She knew that Fornell thought that her suspicions were groundless, that she was pursuing a personal vendetta. She was also perfectly aware that he wasn't the only person who thought that. In a weird kind of way she respected him for fighting her – instead of watching from the shadows and whispering about her which is what other people were doing.

But they hadn't only argued about the investigation – he'd thrown her relationship with McGee in her face as well; as though it was something she ought to be ashamed of. Her refusal to be embarrassed had been the final straw – or at least what they'd been yelling about when he'd keeled over.

They'd called an ambulance for him and she had let her assistant and Melvin deal with that, because it was clear Fornell didn't want her anywhere near him. Which had left her to look after Emily.

The little girl was currently curled into her side, trying to be brave but clearly terrified. She was adorable and though Jenny was normally reserved around children it had been easy to put her arms around Emily and to whisper comfort as she stroked her hair.

The very last thing she was expecting was for Gibbs to walk around the corner.

"Uncle Gibbs," Emily looked about ready to cry, but she tried a small smile before saying, "where's daddy?"

"I don't know – but I'm going to find out for you," Jenny watched, heart in her throat as he bent down to look Emily in the eye. "Everything is going to be OK," he told her.

Gibbs looked around him, taking in the man in a suit standing with Jen and Emily in his line of sight. He frowned – the guy looked a lot like a security detail, but why would she…?

Jenny was still trying to process the fact that Jethro was here – that he knew Emily, which meant he must know Fornell as well. Distantly she remembered Tim telling her that Fornell had once had one of his colleague's arrested and regretted that she had never thought to enquire what had happened – to ask how well the NCIS team knew him.

"Are you here for Agent Fornell?" They all stood up as the Doctor arrived.

"Is he all right?" Jenny asked.

"It looks as though he's having some heart problems."

"This is his daughter," Gibbs nodded towards Emily who was clutching Jenny's hand.

"You'll be able to see your daddy in a little while, OK? Are you her mother?"

"No," Jenny said hurriedly, squeezing Emily's hand. "I work with her father, I was with him when he was taken ill."

"Can you tell me what happened?" Gibbs caught the flash of uneasiness in her eyes, but she nodded.

"We were er – having a disagreement and he collapsed." The pieces of the jigsaw were assembling in a way Gibbs didn't particularly like – because from what Fornell had said to him there was only one woman who he'd been arguing with recently – and it wasn't Diane.

"Has he been feeling unwell, complaining of pain or breathlessness?"

"Not as far as I know, he's been," she glanced over at Gibbs, "quite angry lately – shouting a lot." Gibbs frowned, trying to remember what McGee had told him about her, pretty sure that there had been no details other than that she was with the Bureau. They had talked a little about work and he had assumed from what she told him that she lead a team – maybe as part of some sort of taskforce. But he shouldn't have assumed, he'd broken one of his own rules and the bad feeling in the pit of his stomach was the result.

"I've ordered an ECG, but I'm pretty sure it's angina. I'd like to keep Agent Fornell overnight –we're just getting him settled. He's been asking for someone called, Gibbs?"

"That would be me," Gibbs offered as he stepped forward, "Emily's mom is overseas at the moment – she'll need to stay with me. "

"OK – well, you can come on through and then we'll let this young lady see her daddy."

***

Tobias looked pale – almost gray in the hospital bed. "How's Em?" He croaked as soon as Gibbs stepped into the room.

"She's OK – they're going to let her in to see you in a minute and she can stay with me tonight." Gibbs thought back to the image of the little girl curled into Jenny's arms and gritted his teeth – knowing that he couldn't avoid the chance to have his suspicions confirmed or denied. "There's a woman with her?"

Despite being ill Fornell still managed to growl, "the evil Queen – or as she's better known, Assistant Director Shepard." He had really been hoping that Fornell wasn't going to say that.

"She's the one you've been bitching about?"

"Hell yeah – the woman's dangerous. She's got some crazy obsession, she's a loose cannon. Got herself a toy boy as well – someone you know in fact."

"Oh?"

"McGee." There was considerable relish in the way he told him that – making Gibbs wonder how long he'd been holding onto that piece of information. He had no idea how Fornell knew anything about McGee's friendship with this woman, he didn't even know if McGee knew who she was. He didn't like the way the insinuation made him feel – he knew McGee wouldn't betray him like that, even if he wasn't so sure about Jenny. The woman had deceived him after all – and he hated deception.

"She's not involved with McGee," he said – looking Fornell dead in the eye until his sceptical expression faded.

"I'll be damned – the lipstick on the glass in the basement?" Gibbs nodded, not wanting to actually say the words. "McGee introduced you?"

"Yeah,"

"And you had no idea who she was?" Fornell chucked, "I'm feeling better – but you look sick."

***

"You ready to go see your dad?" He asked Emily as he returned to the waiting area. She nodded, but didn't move – looking up at Jenny with big eyes.

"It's OK," she reassured her, "Uncle Gibbs will go with you."

"Will you wait for me?" Jenny looked over at Gibbs and then made herself look away.

"I'll be right here."

"Something you forgot to tell me, Assistant Director Shepard?" Gibbs said as he emerged from the hospital room without Emily. She heard the anger and frustration in his voice – could hardly miss it.

"I just wanted not to be the Assistant Director of the FBI for a while – is that so terrible?"

"Should have thought of that before you took the job." She pushed herself up and took a step towards him.

"Jethro,"

"I don't like people who lie to me," he told her - steeling himself not to notice the way her expression faltered.

"I didn't lie to you,"

"You didn't tell me the truth – not much difference in my book. And from what I've heard it's only part of what you are capable of." The words lashed at her and she knew she'd failed to hide just how much they hurt – it was, after all, what she'd been hearing a lot lately. She just hadn't expected to count the man she was sleeping with among her enemies.

"You've heard that from Fornell!" She snapped, "someone who is pissed off, isn't well and who doesn't know me."

"I'd trust him with my life."

"Of course you would." She stopped fighting; whatever Fornell had said about her Gibbs believed and despite what people accused her of, Jenny Shepard didn't waste her time fighting battles she couldn't possibly win. This was not a man who she could talk round, at least not right now – there was too much wounded pride in his eyes.

"There's no need for you to wait," he told her.

"Emily asked me to," she responded, swallowing the lump in her throat. She'd really liked him, she admitted to herself as they lapsed into an uncomfortable silence and she'd pretty much blown it.

They were still studiously ignoring each other when a nurse emerged with Emily. The little girl looked a lot happier and chattered cheerfully – apparently not noticing the tension between the adults.

"Can we go home first, Uncle Gibbs? So I can get some toys?"

"Aren't I enough fun?" He asked, "there's a whole boat for you to play with." She bit her lip and looked up at him, quite seriously, before replying,

"I like your boat – but girls like other things too you know." Jenny almost laughed at how they interacted but then caught something in his expression that stopped her – only she couldn't quite read what it was.

"OK," he told her.

"Can Jenny come?" He looked up, his eyes cold.

"She's busy," he replied, before Jenny even got a chance to respond.

"Another time," she agreed – trying to make it sound better, even though she knew there would be no such occasion. She nodded to Melvin, who was standing just out of earshot and gathered up her possessions. "Bye Emily," she said as she passed, giving the little girl a wave. "Agent Gibbs."

The look she shot him made him understand why Fornell found her so threatening, she was certainly a force to be reckoned with. It was a little irritating that as much as the thought annoyed him; it also turned him on.

***

A slap to the back of his head was the first indication McGee had that Gibbs had arrived. He rubbed his head gingerly and tried to work out what he could possibly have done to anger the boss. Both Ziva and Tony had taken one look at his steely expression and retreated to a safe distance.

"You need to chose better friends," Gibbs hissed, "and never assume."

TBC


	8. Chapter 8

A/N - thanks for the reviews. As promised, this part is McGee heavy.

**Part 8**

McGee wasn't having a very good day. The atmosphere was terrible – Gibbs' mood fell into the dangerous category and everyone was keeping their distance. Everyone except McGee, who knew there wasn't anything he could do to avoid being the target for all that anger.

It hadn't taken much of an investigator to put the pieces together and realise what he had done to provoke his boss. The only possible thing on the list was introducing him to Jenny Shepard.

With Gibbs' comment about assumptions ringing in his ears – although that might have been the head slap – he'd finally done a little research and was still trying to decide how he felt about what he'd learnt.

He knew he should have realised that she wasn't just a standard FBI agent. He should have known from the way she talked and by the things she talked about. He couldn't help feeling pride that she was his friend – that this was the person he'd had conversations with about everything and nothing. But he was also a little intimidated about this other person she was.

Obviously she hadn't told Gibbs straightaway – and now that he had found out he wasn't taking the news well. If it had been anyone else McGee might have concluded that he must really have liked her to be reacting this way. But it was Gibbs – and McGee wasn't confident about that conclusion in relation to him and he certainly wouldn't venture that particular opinion out loud. He was however, still trying to work out if Gibbs knew he'd introduced them deliberately.

He understood why she hadn't told him who she was and now that he did know, he couldn't quite believe what she'd done when they'd first met – how much of a risk with her reputation she had actually taken. But he did have the context that had been missing before – understood why she talked about having lost herself to the job. She was still the person he'd met that Sunday afternoon, he still wanted to be her friend. But he was worried that she would withdraw – expect him to be angry.

He was contemplating what to do about that when the sound of the elevator door opening broke the silence and the woman in question strode into the bull pen, flanked by two other agents.

"Hubba hubba," Tony murmured narrowing his eyes and watching her progress with interest. McGee swallowed, suddenly very glad that Gibbs had just gone for coffee – especially when she flashed a half smile in his direction.

"Jennifer," Director Morrow called her name from half way down the stairs and she smiled up at him. "It's good to see you,"

"Director Morrow," her eyes wandered back to McGee again and then to the desks around him. Tony made a surprised noise when she barely paid him any attention,

"How's Agent Fornell?" Morrow was asking.

"He was released from hospital this morning – and is resting at home. I understand he was co-operating with one of your teams, I'll be taking over in his absence."

McGee knew that in the short time before she disappeared with the Director into MTAC, she had ascertained that Gibbs wasn't around. He couldn't decide if she was crazy to come here to face his wrath or brave.

"Who the hell was that?" Tony asked when she and Morrow were safely out of earshot.

"Assistant Director Shepard, FBI." McGee told him, hiding a secret smile at the way the title rolled off the tongue.

"No way," Tony looked dreamy for a moment, "why don't we have Assistant Director's who look like that? Good job Gibbs wasn't here – you know how he is with red heads."

***

Morrow was too good a politician not to welcome her into the hallowed corridors of his agency. He was too used to the careful manoeuvrings made necessary by his status as head of a junior agency to risk burning a contact with the FBI. If he was certain that she was about to fall, Jenny knew he wouldn't exercise the same caution – but such matters were rarely certain and she could be a good politician herself, when the situation demanded it. So, their meeting was extremely cordial; she shared information, made all the right noises about collaboration and then sent her colleagues on ahead so she could speak to McGee.

There was no sign of Jethro – which although disappointing was probably a good thing. He wasn't the reason she'd decided to take over the case Fornell had been collaborating with NCIS over – it was Tim that she felt she really owed an apology to.

She paused, looking down at him. She recognised his colleagues from his descriptions of them – which had been astute and amusing. She saw DiNozzo look up in her direction and then track her progress down to the bull pen and she saw what he missed; which was that his attention was not lost on the woman she assumed to be Ziva David.

"Hello Tim," Jenny stopped by his desk, unsure of her welcome; knowing only how deeply she would regret losing his friendship.

"Jenny," he probably didn't realise how relieved she was when he used her name.

"Do you have 5 minutes?" He scanned the bullpen again – obviously making sure that Gibbs was nowhere in sight and then nodded.

"Probie," DiNozzo's voice said, "Gibbs said to stay here."

"I'm not going far," he replied – leading her towards the elevators and not looking back to see Tony shaking his head.

"I owe you an apology." She wasn't a woman who found it easy to admit her mistakes – but this was important. "I should have told you who I was." His response was a lopsided smile that warmed her,

"Jenny, the way we met you'd have been crazy to tell me who you were." Well, he had a point there.

"OK not then, but later."

"You had your reasons. Are you alright?" She wasn't used to having anyone to ask her that, certainly not someone who had no agenda other than actually wanting to know. She shrugged – not really ready to admit that for a whole variety of reasons she wasn't all right.

"Gibbs isn't too happy," Tim watched her expression – he knew her well enough to catch the flicker of hurt that told him that he hadn't been wrong when he'd introduced them – though maybe his timing hadbeen a little off.

"I'm sorry if he's taking it out on you."

"He says apologies are a sign of weakness."

"Then there's nothing I can say to him." McGee wished he could tell her that Gibbs wasn't stubborn and difficult, but in his own way the man was both of those things and not likely to change any time soon. It was part of the complicated jigsaw that made up his personality – and also part of his charm. Under the circumstances he decided it was probably better not to mention that.

He pressed the button for the elevator – suddenly unwilling to have Jenny leave, "how about the ten cent tour," he offered, "we can finish up in Abby's lab?"

McGee honestly wasn't sure what Jenny would make of Abby, or vice versa. From what he'd seen FBI agents seemed to veer towards the straight-laced and even he had to admit that Abby was not what more people expected in a forensic scientist.

Jenny was looking – not exactly like a Fed, but certainly like someone important. He was pretty sure that the suit she was wearing was designer and though he'd seen her in jeans and a t-shirt Abby hadn't. A little too late it occurred to him that no matter how much he wanted these two women to take to each other, it might not play out like that.

The loud music blasting from the lab was an indication that Abby was in a good mood, though Jen shot him a look full of curiosity as they stepped closer to the noise.

"McGee," Abby called without looking at him, "you're too early, it's not time for my big reveal and Gibbs isn't here either – though he will be when my babies are ready and," she stopped talking when she turned around and came face to face with Jenny. "McGee?" Abby queried switching off the music.

"Abby, this is a friend of mine – Jenny Shepard, Jenny – this is Abby Scuito, forensic scientist extraordinaire."

"Tim's told me a lot about you," Jenny said, holding out her hand.

"Well, McGee hasn't mentioned you at all." Abby replied, looking at the outstretched hand and then pointedly ignoring it, crossing her arms over her chest instead.

"Jenny's with the FBI," Tim said, hoping that would somehow smooth things over. It didn't, Abby looked singularly unimpressed at the news but before she could explain just how she felt about the FBI there was a familiar voice behind them.

"You get lost on your way to the front gate, Assistant Director Shepard?"

***

She was the last person Gibbs was expecting to see. It was a serious affront to find her standing in the lab with McGee as though nothing at all had happened. What made it worse was the surge he'd experienced when he'd rounded the corner and recognised her. His initial, physical response to seeing her was a positive one, it was only when his brain caught up that he remembered that she was the enemy and he was mad at her.

"Gibbs!" Abby smiled holding out her hand to receive the caff pow he was carrying. "I don't have anything for you yet – but something must be due any second, or else you wouldn't be here." She turned back to her computers – as though she was glad to hide from the atmosphere in the room.

McGee looked startled at his sudden appearance and Gibbs felt a moment of satisfaction at the knowledge that he could still scare his team. "Agent McGee was just giving me the tour," Jenny offered quietly.

"McGee – get back to the squad room – Assistant Director Shepard is just leaving." Jenny's lips quirked into a grim little smile and he was so busy looking at her, and trying not to, that he almost missed McGee say quietly but firmly,

"I'll show her out."

"McGee!" He thundered, not used to being disobeyed and certainly not by his youngest team member.

McGee had pulled himself up to his full height, he was looking Gibbs square in the eye and Jenny knew that whatever he said next would in all likelihood make things worse. She couldn't allow herself to cause that kind of breech between Tim and the man he idolised. She'd done enough damage already.

"It's fine – I have to get back anyway," she said hurriedly, " I can find my own way out Tim." She smiled at him, a genuine smile and saw his tense body language relax.

She knew Abby was listening to every word – though pretending not to. She could hazard a guess to what that was about, but she knew the younger woman wouldn't want to hear whatever she had to say. Gibbs wasn't even trying to pretend that he wasn't watching and listening.

"See you soon?" Tim asked, smiling back at her.

"Count on it. Thanks for the tour" she winked at him as she swept out of the lab – not looking back until she heard Gibbs' voice.

"Do I have to tell you to stay away from my team?" Jenny stopped and turned back to look at him – Tim had forgiven her, yet Jethro couldn't. She wondered what it was that made their reactions to the same issue so different. She wouldn't have said he was a cruel man, everything that she'd seen in the admittedly short time she'd known him indicated that he was compassionate – unless you were a criminal he was pursuing. The only difference was what he had heard about her from third parties – Tim wasn't having poison whispered in his ear, he wasn't being told about her obsessions, that she'd seen betrayal where there was none; or whatever the rumour of the day about her was. And perhaps Tim hadn't lived the way she and Gibbs had. As much as she hated to admit it she knew in his place she'd likely be reacting as Jethro had. But then there were very few people in the world like Tim McGee.

"Jethro – don't make the mistake of trying to tell Tim how to chose his friends."

He thought about pointing out that he didn't need her advice about his team – but the knowledge that she was right stopped him. McGee was loyal, almost to a fault. He was loyal to his team and Gibbs had witnessed his loyalty to his family at first hand. There was no doubt he'd behave the same way for a friend and this woman, whoever the hell she was, seemed to be amongst them.

"I'm sorry," she said – so quietly he almost thought he'd imagined it. The words were little more than a breath on the air and she was gone before he could spout his well worn line that apologies were a sign of weakness. But her presence lingered in the corridor, weaving around him like perfume. The heaviness and the stillness pressed down on him and he couldn't quite shake the twinge in his gut that told him that 'something' was wrong. He knew that the 'something' in question was her – a woman he scarcely knew, yet somehow recognised. A woman who had just walked away after what felt a lot like 'goodbye.'

Gibbs looked back towards the lab and found McGee watching him. He didn't know how much of that final encounter his junior agent had witnessed, though from his expression he guessed it was most of it. He didn't enjoy seeing what looked a lot like sympathy in McGee's eyes. It wasn't an emotion he had much time for and he stared back, throwing all of his experience of intimidation into it. Only something didn't work; McGee didn't crack. He just walked towards the elevator; leaving Gibbs standing in the corridor, asking himself what the hell had just happened.

TBC


	9. Chapter 9

A/N - thanks for the reviews. Still lots of Tim in this chapter - and some other stuff as well!

**Part 9**

Getting absorbed in a case had helped, it had given Gibbs some other outlet for his bad mood and McGee was profoundly grateful for the respite.

But the case wasn't enough to rescue him from his colleagues and whenever Gibbs was out of sight for more than 60 seconds he had endured a whole variety of interrogation techniques as they tried to find out what was going on.

It was mostly Tony, who was fascinated by the beautiful woman who had shown up to speak to McGee and by Gibbs' anger towards him. DiNozzo's investigative instincts told him the two were connected and he was determined to find out how.

Ziva was more subtle in her questioning, though she scarcely needed to press her point since they both knew she could snap him into tiny pieces without as much as breaking a nail – if she chose to. But she was no more successful than Tony in getting him to talk and at least she seemed amused at her failure – while Tony was only motivated to try harder.

With the case wrapped up and Gibbs telling them to get on with the paperwork, McGee was looking forward to finishing for the day and enjoying what remained of his weekend. He applied himself to his report with diligence – only stopping when his cell phone rang.

"Agent McGee – this is Cynthia Somers, I'm calling on behalf of Assistant Director Shepard. She asked me to contact you because she is going to have to reschedule your coffee date tomorrow."

"Is everything all right?" He was surprised that Jenny hadn't called him herself and when the woman on the other end of the line hesitated for a fraction of a second too long he had his answer. "Has something happened?"

"I'm sorry, I'm not at liberty to discuss that – but I am sure AD Shepard will call you herself as soon as she can." OK, so she was definitely alive – it wasn't much, but he'd go with that until someone told him something better – preferably the woman herself.

He glanced down at his computer, his fingers itching to go to work and find out for himself. But then he looked around him – his phone conversation had already roused the attention of Tony and Ziva and as far as he knew Gibbs was still in the building. If he was going to find out what had happened to Jenny, he needed a smaller audience.

"I'm still mad at you." Abby said – barring the way to her computers. They hadn't spoken much since he had brought Jenny to the lab. He had meant to come down and explain but somehow it had been easier to stay out of her way, because justifying his friendship with Jenny wasn't something he was prepared to do; not even to Abby.

"Abs, please. I need the computers – something happened to Jenny and the FBI aren't going to tell me anything, I need to find out for myself."

"You have your own computer – you don't need mine."

"I can't do this upstairs with Tony and Ziva looking over my shoulder and Gibbs bound to turn up as soon as I start looking." Reflexively he glanced over his shoulder – half expecting Gibbs to show up here, summoned by the sound of his name and what Abby called his 'spidy senses'.

"Well, I didn't like her. You've never mentioned her before; I didn't even know you knew anyone who worked at the FBI. I don't like it when you keep secrets Timmy." He sighed, not wanting to spend precious time telling her when he could be helping Jenny, but seeing no real alternative.

"You won't believe me when I tell you how we met." To her credit Abby listened to the story without interrupting once – though her eyes went wide as his tale unfolded.

"That was so sweet of her," she breathed at the end. "She's amazing." Of course McGee tended to agree and because it was Abby, who'd done a complete reversal in a few minutes with her own blend of charm, he couldn't help but share the rest. She practically bounced up and down as he told her how he'd realised that Jenny would be perfect for Gibbs, that he'd found a reason to introduce them and things had seemed to be going well – until everything fell apart.

"You have to fix this," Abby said, hugging him fiercely, "I know you can."

There was no longer any question about her helping him, or denying him access to her precious computers. They worked side by side and there was a security in the familiarity of their collaboration. It wasn't quite enough to keep his fears at bay – but it helped.

They didn't have to look too hard, or bend too many laws before they found it. Abby gasped sharply as the information scrolled across the screen. "Oh no," McGee said as he read the same reports.

***

Fornell's house seemed to have been taken over by small girls; they were wearing pyjamas, playing with each other's hair and talking and giggling a lot. Gibbs recognised the signs.

"Sleepover party?" He asked as Fornell answered the front door.

"I promised Emily – Diane's back on Monday." He couldn't decide whether a house full of 8 year olds was a good idea under the circumstances. Fornell didn't look much better than he had in the hospital.

"You OK?"

Tobias paused and looked up at him. "You haven't heard," he responded flatly.

"Heard what?"

"I'll put the DVD on, quiet the girls down – then fill you in. The alcohol is in the kitchen."

"I thought you weren't supposed to be drinking," Fornell snorted, clearly not wanting to even dignify that with an answer.

"When I tell you, you'll understand," was all he said.

Agent Sachs was in the kitchen, head buried in his hands and a couple of empty bottles of beer on the table around him. He seemed a strange choice to help supervise a sleepover and he didn't look any happier than Fornell.

"She was right," Tobias said, coming into the room behind him and reaching for a glass, "she was right and we were wrong, we were all wrong."

Gibbs still had no idea what he was talking about – but his gut twisted and the hairs on the back of his neck stood up, because there was only possible 'she' in this context. "What happened?" The two FBI agents exchanged a look – but it was Fornell who answered him.

"This afternoon six FBI agents were arrested on charges of corruption, bribery, theft, handling stolen property and I'm sure I missed a few other things in there as well. The agent's in question were respected, most of them had been with the agency for years and no one had any idea they'd been taking bribes to make evidence go away. Well, someone suspected; saw a pattern in a series of unsolved cases that everyone else missed. But unfortunately most of the rest of the agency believed Assistant Director Shepard was pursuing a personal vendetta."

"Tobias?" He knew that wasn't everything, could see it in the eyes of both of the men.

"She got warrants this afternoon; but the ringleaders were warned, someone tipped them off."

"He means I tipped them off," Sachs said. "I thought, we all thought, she was crazy; that she'd dug up some flimsy piece of evidence that wouldn't even make it to court. I mentioned the warrants to another agent; I trained with him for Gods sake. Turns out he mentioned it to an agent he'd been working with – who'd been paying him to pass me information. I didn't know that until it was too late."

"They've been feeding us misinformation for weeks," Fornell said gloomily, "feeding our dislike of her, my dislike of her."

"What happened?"

Fornell grimaced, but Gibbs didn't care about his discomfort right now and he continued to look at Fornell, until he got his answer. "For some reason, there weren't any other agents available when she went to make the arrests."

"Tell me you didn't…?"

"I didn't know, I swear it." Gibbs believed him – but it didn't matter that Fornell had been on sick leave at the time. The damage had been done, others had followed his lead. The agents Jenny had gone to arrest had been pre-warned that she was coming and, though they hadn't known news of the arrests had been leaked, her colleagues had 'arranged' for there to be a limited team to go with her to make them. He sucked in a breath, refusing to ask if she had made it out alive, telling himself he'd know if she hadn't.

"Is she OK?"

It was Sacks who answered his question. "Bullet grazed her shoulder, one of her team got hit in the stomach – he'll pull through. They were in a diner full of civilians, we were lucky it wasn't worse."

"Luck had nothing to do with it," Fornell said morosely, "she's good – she's damn good. And Dean, the ringleader – he wanted her to kill him; didn't leave her a choice. Took all of 5 minutes to rule the shooting as good."

Gibbs wasn't the most imaginative of men, but it didn't take a lot of imagination to work out what it must have been like for Jenny these last weeks. Her own agency had turned against her, her reputation had been tarnished by rumours and lies. No one had been prepared to help her and today she had walked into a situation that could have killed her. And all she had done was try to root out corruption. No wonder she had not wanted to tell anyone who she was.

He remembered some of the things he had said to her and was suddenly very grateful that McGee was too loyal and too stubborn to abandon a friend. At least one of them had believed in her.

"I'll have that drink now," he said pulling out a chair and slumping onto it – certain that his expression was every bit as morose as his companions. "Anyone tried to talk to her?"

"You think she'd take my calls?" Fornell asked, Gibbs shrugged in response; he doubted she'd want to talk to him either.

***

Jenny Shepard felt the twinge in her shoulder as she reached for a file and ignored it, telling herself ruthlessly that she'd had worse injuries over the years and that she had far more important things to worry about right now. And while she also know that it was an evasion, a way to avoid having to think about what had happened, what she'd been forced to do, then it least was one with more than a hint of truth about it.

The agency was in full damage control mode and since she was responsible, at least in part, for that damage she was also expected to play her part in controlling it. But of course that wasn't how it was being spun.

Her superiors had suddenly decided that she was bold and brave – character traits that just days ago they had seemed to view as vices were new being lauded as virtues. She'd already been dragged in front of a press conference and hailed as an example of all that was right about law enforcement. She had no doubt that such attention would make those colleagues who believed she had only been promoted because of how she looked on screen very unhappy.

But over the last few weeks she had got used to ignoring what people said about her – or at least pretending that she didn't care. The lesson had been a salient one; she wasn't foolish enough to believe that it was over now – just because she had made some arrests. There was no glory in what she had exposed, only shame and the sense that they were all sullied by association.

She could feel the shadows – knew that in darkness, perhaps only in darkness, she would question her decisions and actions. But not yet – she wasn't ready for the darkness yet.

"Ma'am," a soft tap at the door disturbed her reverie which, given the spiralling nature of her thoughts was probably just as well.

"Yes Cynthia?" The young woman looked nervous and uncomfortable – but then she'd only started work a week ago. In that time she had proved herself to be both calm and efficient which was definitely a good thing, since there had been a lot to be calm and efficient about. Given that she had pretty much walked into a firestorm Jenny supposed she couldn't blame her new assistant for wondering what on earth she had signed up for.

"Agent McGee is downstairs. He doesn't have clearance to come up and he doesn't have an appointment. But he's insisting on seeing you and since you asked me to call him earlier I thought…" Jenny could only imagine what she thought – especially considering some of the rumours that had been flying around. "I don't listen to gossip ma'am."

"That's good to know," the two women exchanged a look, a brief moment of understanding that was as close to normalcy as Jen had got all day.

"What shall I do about Agent McGee?" Jenny smiled – knowing that Tim would not leave easily; warmed by the knowledge that someone cared enough to come to ask if she was all right.

"Hey," McGee paused in the doorway of her office, reassured that she was safely behind her desk rather than in a hospital bed, or worse. But he knew it wasn't that simple.

"It's good to see you," she said simply and that did make him feel better.

"I was going to say that to you," he said, stepping further into the office. Up close he could see that she looked pale, that there were shadows under her eyes that could not possibly have been caused by the day's events.

"So, did you come to see the view from my window?" She queried, "believe me – it's nothing special."

"Actually, I thought I might drive you home – maybe persuade you to eat some food?" She started to shake her head, not willing to concede how tired she was, but he wasn't easily dissuaded. "You need to get some rest Jenny."

"Are you looking after me?"

"Trying to," he confirmed, reaching for the coat, slipping it off the hanger and holding it out to her.

If it had been anyone else she would have told them she could tough it out, that she'd been through far worse and that she had planned to sleep on the couch in her office. But it wasn't so easy to brush off a friend. So she nodded and pushed herself to her feet, letting him drape the coat over her shoulders as she collected her belongings.

"I am under instructions from Abby to give you a hug," he said as she switched off the light in the office and walked with him towards the elevators. "But I am not sure how badly your shoulder is injured – so, I'll give it a miss right now."

"It's only a scratch. Why does Abby want you to hug me? I thought she didn't like me."

"Change of heart – it's very Abby. You'll get used to it."

"I'll take your word for that." He stayed close, but not too close – sensing that she welcomed his presence, but that she wasn't ready to relax her defences.

He wanted to ask her about what had happened, coax her to talk about it, but he knew he lacked the words. He wasn't sure what use it was to be a writer if he couldn't find a way to get her to tell this story. But then he realised that it wasn't about him, it didn't matter if he couldn't help her, as long as there was someone who could.

***

Gibbs ran his hands over the hull of the boat – he wasn't working on her tonight, he was just pottering really, using the familiarity as a way to settle his scattered thoughts.

He wasn't surprised at the sound of hesitant footsteps above him, or the burst of determination that brought the same footsteps and their owner down the stairs into the basement. He didn't need to look around to know the identity of his guest – he'd half been expecting him.

"How is she?" He asked, before McGee could even open his mouth. There didn't seem to be much point in pretending not to know what this was about; who this was about.

"She isn't talking about it – not to me anyway and I didn't want to push her." Gibbs nodded, reaching for a glass of bourbon and taking a long swallow. He wasn't surprised that Jenny didn't want to discuss this, suspected she'd prefer to deal with her demons in her own way. But as far as he could tell she'd had to deal with far too much on her own lately.

He put the glass down and leisurely reached for a cloth, wiping his hands and then brushing past McGee as he made his way upstairs. From the top of the stairs he looked back, "you coming?" he asked.

TBC


	10. Chapter 10

A/N - thanks for the reviews and a big thank you to Ellie who pulled me through when I was struggling with this part.

**Part 10**

When McGee pulled up outside Jenny's apartment block he wasn't surprised to see that Gibbs was already parked and out of his car – he hadn't even attempted to keep pace with him on the drive over.

The problem of how they were going to persuade Jenny to let them in was easily overcome – for Gibbs at least. As he lingered on the sidewalk one of her neighbours was leaving and he caught the door and slipped into the building as easily as if he had planned it.

McGee let him go.

* * *

The elevator ride wasn't long enough to help Gibbs decide what to say to her. He wasn't convinced that he would do a better job than McGee at getting her to talk, but he owed her the opportunity. He knew that was the least of what he owed her, but he was even worse at apologies than he was at talking about feelings. This was definitely the lesser of two evils.

As he'd driven here he had tried to work out what he wanted from her. He couldn't pretend not to know that she was the Assistant Director of the FBI; now that he had seen it, he wondered how he'd managed to avoid the knowledge for so long. He had known from the beginning of their acquaintance that she was used to giving orders, exercising authority, to making life and death decisions both for herself and for others. If he was honest, the sense that she was his equal had been part of what drew him to her. Her title was a little loftier than he had imagined – but she was the same woman.

What he'd learned of the days events only confirmed that he'd been right about her, that he should have trusted his original instincts and not allowed himself to get caught up in the internal politics of other agencies.

But having sorted out what he wanted from her, there was still the question of whether she would even open her door to him.

He wasn't the last person she was expecting to see – that would have been Fornell; but Gibbs wasn't far behind him on the list.

She hadn't been able to sleep, had been gazing into the fire – her thoughts deep in the past when the soft knocking at the door disturbed her. But she wasn't sure she was dressed for visitors, for this visitor in particular.

"Did I wake you?" He asked – his throat a little dry at the sight of her in a thin vest and dark pants, with a soft blanket draped over her shoulders – an ensemble that looked more than a little like pyjamas.

She couldn't fail to notice the way he looked at her as she stood in the doorway, the way his eyes lingered over her bare skin. Knowing that his appreciation had made her blush she pulled the blanket a little more tightly around her.

She shook her head, but didn't move from the doorway – presumably trying to decide whether to let him in or not. "I take it McGee called for reinforcements?" She said at last, her tone slightly amused and certainly without rancour – though he suspected that was more down to McGee than to him. "What did he say?"

"That you didn't want to talk." He hadn't asked if he could come in and she hadn't invited him inside. "I'm not going to break down your door Jenny – if you don't want to talk to me I'll go away and leave you alone."

"I don't want you to go away and leave me alone." As she spoke the blanket slipped from her shoulder and his gaze fell on the bandage at the top of her arm. "It's a scratch," she said, moving aside to let him in. "I've had worse."

The flames from the fireplace cast a soft glow across the living room, making it look warm and inviting. There was an open book and a glass of wine by the sofa and he guessed she'd been curled up there when he'd interrupted her. It was a scene of peace and tranquillity – giving the impression of a relaxed evening at home. But he didn't think the impression was entirely accurate.

Jenny sipped her wine, watching him as he surreptitiously watched her. She wondered what he was doing here. His presence was unsettling on any number of levels and she badly wanted to be the reason for his visit; but she wasn't sure that she was.

Tim had been kind, gentle and rather wonderful – but she couldn't open up to him about what had happened today. She didn't know that she wanted to talk to Gibbs about it either; it wasn't a part of her life she wanted to think about. But the memories were there whether she chose to share them or not.

She didn't need absolution from him, was sure he wouldn't offer it even if she asked. But his judgement was something she thought she could learn to trust.

"When you first joined NCIS was there someone who trained you?" She said quietly.

"Yeah," he was surprised by her question, but conjured up an image of the tall, rangy man who still referred to him as 'probie'.

"Me too," she said softly, her gaze drifting to the flames. "I killed him today."

Gibbs absolutely hadn't been expecting that and he cursed Fornell for keeping that particular piece of information to himself. "His name was Matt Dean," she said, "we worked together for three years. I was fresh out of the academy and so green I'm not sure how I survived. He taught me – a lot."

"But?" She almost smiled and on another day she might have teased him about his interrogation skills.

"I made a mistake, I confused gratitude and respect for something more. It didn't last long, a month at the most. It's not something I'm proud of."

"You ended it?"

"As soon as I came to my senses. I don't know what I was thinking – I knew his wife and kids, even had Thanksgiving dinner with them one year. But Matt didn't want to stop and things became, difficult. So I applied for a transfer and moved on. I hadn't seen or heard from him in years – but I was looking into some open cases and his name just kept coming up." She took a sip of her wine and then set the glass aside, "he liked to cut corners – but I never saw him take a bribe. I think, after his divorce, money became an issue."

His silence made the confession easier and when she risked a glance towards him he was watching her intently. "He found out I was looking into the cases and used his group to spread rumors about me. According to their version of events he'd rejected me all those years ago, and I had must have borne a grudge ever since. God, he wasn't that good. People, my colleagues, believed him – because they knew that I'd pursued the man I held responsible for my father's death. Obsession, bad decisions – a mess of my own making."

"There's enough blame around," he told her, thinking about Fornell and Sacks, "you don't need to add to it."

"When we got to the diner he was ready for us, wasn't going to go quietly. He knew I'd shoot him if I had to, that I wouldn't let him harm anyone else; a clear case of suicide by Federal agent."

"You did what you had to."

"Does it ever get any easier Jethro, doing what has to be done?" He couldn't lie to her, not about this.

"No." She nodded, apparently not surprised and the words slipped from him before he could think too much about what they meant. "Next time – when you need backup and can't get it, call me. I'll be your back up."

She opened her mouth to speak – but couldn't find an adequate response; there was nothing she could say that didn't seem trite in comparison. His finger against her lips stopped her from even trying and she stilled, the contact making her shiver. His eyes were dark, compelling and as she moved towards him the blanket slipped from her shoulders.

He moved instinctively to push it back up over her shoulder blades; but his fingers had a mind of their own and he found himself grazing the skin beneath her vest straps instead. For a moment she was absolutely sure he was going to kiss her, but then he moved his hand, adjusted the blanket and tucked it carefully around her.

"Jen?"

His tone alerted her to the fact that she hadn't been entirely successful in masking her disappointment. She looked up to find him watching her – confusion clouding his expression. The rasp of his fingertips against her skin had sent her heartbeat racing and all she could think about was that she wanted the same touch everywhere. She shrugged in response to the question he hadn't quite asked, the blanket slipped again and this time he didn't move to retrieve it.

They watched each other in the firelight, neither of them willing to break the spell. At last she pulled back enough to lift the vest up over her shoulders, letting it fall behind her onto the couch. She hadn't been wearing anything underneath it and a small smile tugged at her lips when his eyes went immediately to her breasts, then back up to her lips. He smirked and then with the same fluid deliberation shrugged off his jacket and unfastened the buttons of his shirt. Her hands brushed over the warm skin of his chest as she helped him push it off, but by then one of his hands was curved around her breast.

She slid off the couch, catching hold of his hands and drawing him with her onto the floor in front of the fire. He needed little persuasion, crawling over her, trailing tiny kisses and warm hands over the bare skin at her neck and shoulders as she fumbled with his belt. When she couldn't quite unfasten it he lifted his head; his eyes warm with amusement at her frustration.

Holding his eyes with her own he pushed her hand away and completed the task, popping the button on his pants for good measure. She licked her lips, which were suddenly dry from anticipation. The low groan the action tore from him was more than she could stand and she moved fluidly, pressing her body into his, reaching up to pull his mouth down to hers. The moment his mouth met hers was tantalising and powerful. She let her eyes flutter shut, tasting the edge of his passion and knowing only that she wanted to drink deeply from it.

The rest of their clothes were shed with the same languor. They shared long kisses while hands trailed over smooth planes, circling towards sensitive spots – then sliding away; the mutual teasing serving only to rouse them both further.

The firelight flickered over her pale skin as he pulled her to him, "Jenny," he murmured, his hand curling into her hair.

"I'm right here," she whispered back, shifting onto his lap, digging fingers into his shoulders as she rose up and then slipped down onto him with agonising slowness.

They rocked together, eyes locked, chests pressed together – emotion bubbling between them. She was wrapped around him, he was buried deep inside her and they were barely moving. He kissed her again, letting his tongue slide against hers with the same rhythm as their bodies.

Tiny noises escaped her, gasps, whimpers – every movement edging her closer to release. He rocked against her, his hand circling around her hip, fingers digging in as he held them both there.

She couldn't look away, moving above him, pressing her lips to his mouth, then his cheek, tugging at his earlobe as his shallow thrusts met her own movements.

Holding back like this was killing him – but it was worth it. Her head was thrown back, hair tumbling down her shoulders and the skin of her throat was just too much of a temptation. He suckled the sensitive skin, bit down gently, then soothed the spot with his tongue. He knew he was marking her, needed to somehow.

She moved a little faster, hips shifting against his as her nails dug into his shoulders. Pain flared in his knees as he pushed into her but he scarcely noticed as she cried out and he held her tightly to him as she shuddered.

Before she had even recovered he pushed her back onto the carpet, raising her hips and diving into her again. She wrapped her long legs around him, meeting his sharp, hard thrusts and the roaring in his ears might even have been his shout as the climax crashed through him like a tidal wave.

He didn't have the energy to do anything other than roll to the side, pulling Jenny with him and pushing damp tendrils of hair back from her face as he kissed her. She smiled up at him, stroking gentle hands over his back, soothing him; before settling her head on his chest. He fumbled around and found the blanket amidst the tangle of their clothes and draped it over their cooling bodies – sliding a leg between hers, keeping her as close as he could. He had a feeling neither of them had expected things to get so intense – but as he let sleep steal over him it was the sound of her breathing that lulled him, the feel of her hair curled around his hand that let him know everything was OK.

When he woke about an hour later the fire had dipped lower and Jenny was curled more tightly around him. Even he had to concede that spending the night on the floor was not a good idea, especially since she presumably had a perfectly adequate bed. He extricated himself carefully from her grasp and then scooped her up into his arms, blanket and all. His back protested a little – but he ignored the pain when she nuzzled into him.

Surprisingly it didn't feel at all odd to be padding naked across her living room, flicking off lights as he went. She stirred against him; eyes opening wide when she realised he was carrying her. "Bedroom?" He asked quietly.

"Second door on the right."

The bed was large and looked comfortable – he laid her down on it, pulling the comforter aside and crawling in with her. "You're staying," she said as he curved his body around hers. He pressed a kiss to her shoulder, wanting to dispel the slight surprise in her voice.

"I'll be here when you wake up."

* * *

McGee glanced up from his notebook as the lights were turned off in Jenny's apartment. Gibbs had been up there for over 2 hours and now it looked as though he would be staying the night; which meant it was probably OK for him to go home. He smiled slightly; everything was as it should be. Jenny would be OK and in the morning, with any luck, he'd be getting a cup of coffee from Gibbs.

The End - well, apart from the epilogue.


	11. Chapter 11

**A/N **- well, this is it folks. Thank you so much for all of your reviews. **  
**

**Epilogue**

_Six months later…_

The first indication McGee had that his coffee date had arrived was the man in a dark suit who appeared at the door of the coffee shop. They exchanged nods – having become accustomed to each other over the last few months. But the coffee shop was busy and, even though it was DC, the security detail drew attention. McGee wasn't the only person who looked at the door in time to see a woman with red hair, wearing a bright green coat come striding through it – moving implausibly quickly given the size of her heels.

Jenny smiled at him as she slid into the booth, reaching for the coffee he'd already ordered for her. Her first question was about the imminent publication of his new book and before he knew it he was telling her about his latest struggle with his publisher over his refusal to undertake any promotion.

This woman knew him as well as anyone else – and in a completely different way to most people in his life. His natural reticence had kicked in the first time they'd met after she'd renewed her relationship with Gibbs but it had taken her about 10 minutes to cast that aside; to reassure him that she could be his friend as well as Gibbs' lover. Now he wasn't sure why he had ever doubted her.

Her confidence in him was infectious; his shooting was better, he was offering more ideas and suggestions during investigations and even Tony seemed to have noticed and backed off the teasing - a little. But the change wasn't one-sided. The woman before him was light years away from the woman he'd first met six months before. He couldn't see the weight of her job in her face any longer; instead she seemed freer and happier. Though he was sure a lot of that was down to Gibbs, he allowed himself a little of the credit.

"I have something for you," he was slightly nervous, it had seemed like such a good idea when it had first occurred to him. He placed one of the first copies of his new book on the table – it was fresh from the printers.

"Oh – is this it!" She reached eagerly for the book, "can I ask you to sign it for me?" She looked up at him, her expression slightly worried, "tell me I'm not in it?"

"You're not," he reassured, "well – you do make a very small guest appearance."

"I'd better not." She opened the book and as she read the first page her expression changed. She covered her mouth with her hand – shocked, surprised and moved. He'd signed his name in one corner, but it wasn't that which almost made her cry. It was the book's dedication, which read,

'_For Jenny – you can rescue me whenever you like.'_

***

"Your girlfriend is driving me crazy," Gibbs didn't look up from working on the boat as Fornell descended the steps to the basement. He certainly didn't point out that Jen drove him crazy as well, because he doubted that they were talking about the same thing at all. He did smile a little at the thought of the woman in question and wondered if the fact that Fornell was here meant that she was finished for the night – or if he'd done something that involved her having to work late.

Although Tobias grumbled about her, there was little of the spite that had characterised his description of Jenny six months earlier. He'd come to terms with her - more or less. Gibbs was sympathetic, since he was sure she was a nightmare to work for; not least because she knew all the tricks and appeared to have invented a few of her own along the way.

But he didn't work for her and over the last six months they'd gradually eased into a relationship that made him - happy. He and Jenny were careful of one another, protective of what they had and discrete when it came to the outside world. They weren't hiding anything, but they valued their privacy and tried hard to hold onto it.

His team had been, bemused to learn he was involved with someone – and were still getting over the identity of the woman in question. Except for McGee of course, who had followed him into the elevator a few days after he and Jenny had got back together and told him quite bluntly that she was his friend, would continue to be his friend and if Gibbs didn't like it that was too bad. In response Gibbs had shrugged and told him that it wasn't a problem, which was more or less the truth.

The Director had been worried, at least initially. But, with Fornell back at work, Jen had wisely decided that he would continue to handle any liaison between the two agencies.

"Have a drink," Gibbs offered – trying to distract Tobias, because he wasn't going to stand here and listen to him bitch.

"Emily wants to know if you're bringing Jenny to her birthday party." Gibbs grinned, knowing that Emily's father was probably hoping the answer was 'no'. It had to be his worst nightmare, Emily adored Jenny and whenever she was around followed her every move with big eyes.

"Planning to." Emily wasn't the only who'd been charmed by her. She'd won Abby over, Tony thought she was hot, Ducky made no secret of the fact that he believed she was very good news and a couple of weeks ago he'd found her discussing guns with Ziva.

For a woman who had struggled to build relationships with her own agents she was doing a pretty good job with his. But he supposed the fact that she wasn't their boss helped.

The FBI had come around as well. Somehow several agents who had previously worked with Jenny had been transferred to DC and their trust and respect for her had encouraged others to see her in the same light. Gibbs had detected Fornell's hand in those transfers – but knew better than to ask him about it.

"I can't get over how much Emily likes her."

"She's good with kids," Gibbs pointed out.

"Yeah – you wouldn't consider knocking her up would you, keep her off my back for a couple of months?" Gibbs stilled at the words and then made himself turn round to Fornell, who looked mortified. "Can we just forget I said that?"

"Yeah."

* * *

Not surprised to find the front door was unlocked, Jenny slipped into the house, dropping her briefcase and bag on the kitchen table and carefully depositing the take out she'd picked up.

Her gaze lingered on her bag, where the book Tim had given her was safely tucked away. She'd been extremely touched by the gesture; he was a very good friend – and not just because he'd introduced her to the difficult, charming and altogether complicated man she'd spend the last six months getting to know. A man who she was fairly certain was downstairs in the basement.

Their relationship wasn't without complications – people still felt the need to tell her about his reputation for being difficult, especially with other agencies. And he struggled with the intimacy – even though he probably wouldn't describe it in those terms. It wasn't the physical intimacy, she was having the best sex she'd had in years, but emotionally he could be – remote. At least she knew the cause for that now, understood that it wasn't her. But it didn't make it any easier.

She was happy and she wished she could be certain that he would even allow himself to feel anything close to the same.

Gibbs smiled as she wandered down into the basement – glad to see her, enjoying the way she fit into his surroundings. They spent a lot of their time at his place – though he liked her apartment more than he'd expected to. He liked the sofa and fireplace in the living room, the large bed and he was even fond of the double shower in her bathroom. Of course it was just conceivable that he liked being around her and that the location didn't matter too much, as long as she was there.

Sometimes when he caught himself feeling happy, he didn't know what to do. He felt guilty about going on with his life and always before it had been that guilt which had made him pull away. But this time he was fighting to hold on, to find a way to accommodate his past, his present and his future. He wasn't sure if Jenny realised how different she was from anyone else who had come into his life since Shannon and knew that somehow he should find a way to tell her.

But maybe not right now. She ran a warm hand over his back and pressed her body into his side when he lifted an arm to wrap around her shoulders, drawing her close. He pressed a kiss to the top of her head as her hand travelled down his spine, pausing for a moment at the back pocket of his jeans, before insinuating itself around the inside of his thigh in a way that make him suck in a breath.

He smiled into her hair – she was surprisingly tactile, touching him frequently when they were together, even when there were other people present. He loved it, but wasn't planning on telling her so – there was no knowing what she would be encouraged to do if she knew that. He'd discovered that she had a decidedly wicked streak.

"I brought food," she murmured, "you hungry?"

"Yeah," but he didn't let her go and she didn't seem in any hurry to move.

"Visitor?" She asked, nodded to the second glass on the workbench.

"Fornell dropped by."

"Singing my praises no doubt?" He didn't respond to that, since they both knew it was unlikely. Tobias didn't sing anyone's praises.

"He wanted to know if we're going to make it to Emily's birthday party?"

"I'm hoping to, though it depends on whether Emily's father behaves himself and doesn't add to my workload. I picked her up a present a couple of days ago – something she's been asking for."

"Jen, tell me you haven't brought her a kitten?" He said looking down at her, not putting it past her for a second and knowing that Tobias and Diane would go crazy.

"I haven't brought her a kitten, besides – she wants a pony now," she said, smiling mischievously at him and slipping out of his embrace.

"If you've brought her a pony you're definitely on your own."

"I haven't brought her a pony either – I promise. Wouldn't want to send Fornell back to hospital."

"You're as bad as each other," he said reaching for the remains of his bourbon, "he wanted to know if I could get you pregnant so he could have a couple of months break."

He hadn't really planned to repeat that comment, but since they were joking about Fornell it had just slipped out. When she didn't reply straight away he turned to look at her.

"I admire his optimism," she said carefully, "but I doubt he'd survive the pregnancy hormones." But the response had taken her a second too long, there was an almost catch in her voice that seemed to mirror something he'd seen in her eyes for a fraction of a second. He didn't know if he should ask her about it, but the mood had shifted and he didn't completely understand why. "I think I'll go and sort out the food."

He listened to her footsteps as he put away his tools, cleaned away and poured another drink. His mind strayed back two months or so, to the night he'd told her about Shannon and Kelly.

She hadn't reacted like anyone else, certainly not like Diane, who'd been angry that he had left it so long to tell her, or Stephanie, who'd cried. Jenny had listened to him quietly, slipping her hand into his at one point – letting him know she was there. When he got to the end she'd told him how sorry she was for his loss and that she was glad he'd told her. And then later, when it should have been time for bed, she'd called her detail and had them pick her up to take her home.

She'd stayed away for several nights, not calling him, making no attempt to keep in touch. He'd given her the space she seemed to need – but wasn't sure what he'd do if she never came back. He was on the point of asking McGee, of all people, if he knew what was happening – when she came back.

They hadn't mentioned it, he assumed she was coming to terms with his history and appreciated the fact that she didn't seem to be pushing him to open up more. It was one of the things that made him think that he might actually be able to talk to her. But now he wondered what else had been going on for her, what else she'd been dealing with.

She was taking Chinese food out of containers as he reached the kitchen, "do we need to talk about this?" he asked. He wasn't a man who found it easy to talk, so he hoped she appreciated what he was offering.

"There's nothing to talk about."

"Jen," his arms around her made it difficult to maintain the façade. "I didn't mean to upset you," he told her. "I didn't know you wanted kids." She stiffened in his arms and he knew that he'd guessed right.

"It's too late," she said quietly, "I'm too old – I could just do without the reminder, that's all." She had spent several nights not too long ago coming to terms with the fact that being serious about him meant giving up on the idea of children of her own. She hadn't been holding out much hope anyway, knew she'd left it too late, putting her career first for all these years. She didn't regret her decisions, didn't even regret this one. And that was why she'd come back to him.

He tightened his hold on her, "you're not too old – and I thought we'd agreed that we weren't going to assume."

"You didn't have children with any of your ex-wives," she pointed out - because if she'd assumed it hadn't exactly been without evidence. He couldn't argue with her, it was true - even if he hadn't ever actually made that decision; or even thought about it in those terms.

"Things change." He surprised himself by being prepared to admit that and by realising that he meant it.

She turned around in his arms, trying to work out what he was telling her – not sure if he knew himself. "So, we could talk about it?" she suggested, almost shyly. He couldn't let that pass.

"If we must, but I'm pretty sure talking alone isn't what's needed in this situation." The comment made her roll her eyes but it also meant that the seriousness of their conversation dissolved into something different, something uniquely theirs. She could stand here and talk about it, try to understand what had brought about the change – or she could accept it and be happy. It took her a very short time to chose the latter course.

"I'm aware of that." She wrapped an arm around his neck, bringing their bodies into close contact. "We aren't getting any younger," she whispered, letting her other hand drift along the fastening of his shirt – caressing the buttons but not unfastening them, "we shouldn't waste any time."

She slipped out of his grasp, heading towards the door, not at all surprised when he caught her after just a few steps, drawing her into a kiss that was passionate as well as tender. He practically pulled her up the stairs to his bedroom, though she needed little persuasion to follow him.

On their way she caught sight of herself in a mirror and traced the existence of the smiling, laughing women reflected there to a Sunday afternoon, when she had helped a stranger. It had definitely been one of her better decisions.

The End

Coming next... look out for a Xmas fic collaboration


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